


The Path of Leashed Resistance

by brookebond



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Crack-ish, Dogs, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, PM!Eames, Political AU, Slow Burn, bodyguard!arthur, terrible decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2018-12-21 16:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Eames is the British Prime Minister and can't keep a bodyguard longer than a week. It's troublesome, really, but he thinks he might prefer the idiots to his gorgeous new one. Arthur Darling is far too irresistible and Eames can't possibly be blamed for wanting the man to do more than just guard his body.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up to absolute chaos in Slack this morning... So I get to blame all of you for this happening!  
> deinvati, QueenThayet, katythereader, Somedrunkpirate, oceaxe, fiamac, swtalmnd (the last two helped with the name).
> 
> I don't really have much of a plan in terms of posting schedule for this... But we'll see what happens!  
> Unbeta'd because who has the patience for that when there is a desperate need to share the silliness?

Eames had been Prime Minister for two years and had gone through a multitude of security personnel. It wasn’t because he was fussy. It was because they were all entirely useless and Eames didn’t have the time to waste on idiots. Sure, the country were focusing a little too much on who his new bodyguard was every time he went out, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop firing the blighters. It wasn’t his fault none of them were up to snuff. Besides, Mal was really letting her game slip with the last one.

Nash had been the worst of them all. The twat couldn’t have saved Eames from his own mother and that had actually happened.

Eames shuddered at the thought, refusing to remember how his own mother had started assaulting him with her purse. Really, she shouldn’t have been so offended when he had suggested she live in a retirement home. He’d heard really good things about Kensington Village and she was starting to get on in life. Surely, she would have forgiven her only child but, so far, she refused to answer any of his calls. Maybe if he tried calling himself instead of getting the intern to do it…

“-inister?”

“Hmmm?” he replied, blinking as he took in the cabinet members surrounding him. He’d managed to zone out during another meeting. That wasn’t good. What had they been discussing? Something about education?

“Perhaps we should call it a day,” Mr Charles suggested, his irritation obvious in the way he was adjusting his jacket, determinedly staring Eames down. There had to be somewhere far away from London that Eames could send him.

“Perfect,” Eames announced and stood, buttoning his jacket. “Same time next week.” He left, feeling rather satisfied with the annoyed looks the cabinet members shot him as he strode from the conference room.

Mal was waiting for him, compendium in hand, phone to her ear. She was rattling instructions off a mile a minute in French as they walked. He caught snippets of the conversation, preferring to watch as people attempted to look busy as they passed. It had amused Eames to no end seeing the way people scampered about whenever the Prime Minister was in the general vicinity. A part of him wanted to explain that he really didn’t actually care if they were hard at work, just as long as they weren’t watching porn in the office. That was something he couldn’t condone. It wouldn’t look good if the people running the country were found with their hands in their pants.

“What’s on the agenda for the afternoon?” Eames asked when Mal ended the call and breathed out a rather impressive sigh.

“You have a meeting with the French ambassador at one, late lunch with your mother—”

“She finally returned my calls?”

Mal shot him a look that made him question why he ever actually bothered doubting her. There was nothing Mal couldn’t achieve especially when she was wearing her Louboutins.

“Staff meeting at three, tea with your head of security at half four, and then you’re free for dinner.”

Eames stumbled a step, surprised at the turn of events. He never had evenings off.

“Yes, you are not hallucinating.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Mal shrugged and offered him a sympathetic smile that didn’t really help anything.

Without a schedule, Eames didn’t know what to do with himself. It had been years since he’d ever really thought about having a whole night off from responsibilities. Surely Mal was just having him on. There must have been some dinner or gala or event she was forgetting. He couldn’t possibly have nothing on.

“Really, Eamesie, free as a bird.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much pinkys_creature_feature for having a look over this chapter and encouraging where it went.
> 
> I'm not sure what's happening anymore and we're only in chapter two!

Eames’ life consisted of meetings and people attempting to kiss his arse. It was tiresome and by the time he managed to drag himself to his office, Eames was ready to call it a day. He was seriously contemplating just cancelling the tea with the new head of his security, wondering if he couldn’t just put it off for another day. It had been working successfully for the last three days. Surely one more wasn’t going to hurt.

“Don’t you dare,” Mal said as soon as he walked into his office.

“Que?”

“Don’t play cute. You are having this meeting even if it kills you.”

“Is that a threat, ma petite puce?” Eames asked, sinking into his plush leather seat. It was one of the few things he’d brought into the residence with him. There was no way Eames could have settled for sitting in a chair that someone else had moulded to them.

“Only if it needs to be,” she replied far too sweetly for his liking.

He reminded himself to make his own drinks for the next few weeks. Just to be on the safe side.

“Right, well…” Eames sighed and glanced around. “Send him in, I suppose.”

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic, Eamesie, someone might think you like your job,” she teased with a wink and opened the door, gesturing for whoever the new sucker was.

Eames chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled the tray of tea towards him. Late afternoon was when Mal usually switched him to decaf but he could already smell the strong scent of a well-brewed Assam blend. Apparently Mal didn’t want him to sleep his free evening away.

“Prime Minister—”

“Please, it’s just Eames,” he replied as he started pouring the drinks. He wondered how hard it would be to get an entire country to stop calling him by his job title. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

Eames splashed some tea over the side of the cup in his haste to put the pot down, offended that anyone would dare turn down a cuppa on English soil. But, when his eyes locked on the culprit, Eames couldn’t bring himself to reprimand the gorgeous man. His dark hair was slicked back giving him a severe look that Eames was sure scared away many people. It was having the opposite effect on Eames, though, and he shifted in his seat, moving so his lap was entirely covered by the desk.

“Well, then…” Eames cleared his throat. “Best get down to business, then.” He gestured for the new head of his security to take a seat, trying valiantly to ignore the way his trousers stretched as he sat. Even if the guy was a completely useless bodyguard, he was pretty to look at. That was something, at least.

“We should go over basic ground rules.”

“Straight into it then,” Eames muttered, picking up his cup and taking a long sip to try and hide the way he was smirking at the raised brow his muttering elicited.

“I understand you’ve had issues with security in the past—”

“I can’t possibly be held responsible for the incompetence of others.” Eames had had a plethora of useless security teams previously. None of them were up to his standards and Eames had surprisingly low standards when it came to his personal safety. It wasn’t as though he had a family that needed protecting. It was just him. He still hadn’t even figured out  _ why _ he needed a security team. No one was trying to assassinate him. Well, as far as he knew, no one had plans of murdering him.

“Mal has briefed me on the points that were of concern with previous teams and I’m here to alleviate the problem. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Eames mumbled into his cup of tea.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing. So, what’s your name then?” From the look he received, Eames assumed it had been included in some document or other equally fascinating thing he had forgotten to look at during the day.

“Arthur Darling, sir.”

“Darling,” Eames hummed, noting the way Arthur’s jaw clenched.

“It’s just Arthur.”

“Now, now. We must be professional, Darling.” Eames set his cup back on the tray and clasped his hands together. “What’s the first thing on your agenda?”

Arthur calmed, seemingly pleased with the direction Eames was taking their conversation. “You don’t have any commitments for this evening, so I don’t officially have anything on my agenda.”

“And unofficially?”

“Unofficially, whatever you’d like to put on my agenda, I’ll do.”

Eames grinned, unable to control himself with an opening like that. “Me.”

“What?”

“I was thinking of going out this evening. I assume you’ll be accompanying me?” Eames asked, continuing the conversation without missing a step even though Arthur was clearly trying to catch up. It was endearing, the way his brow furrowed, the tiniest crease forming as he frowned at Eames.

“Now wait a minute—”

“I like to go to this shelter, you see. A bit of therapy. Really does wonders.”

“Can you go back to the bit about my agenda?” Arthur asked, trying to cut into Eames’ fast talk.

“It’s one of the only ways I get to relax and there’s this lovely dog shelter that lets me go in and have a bit of a cu—”

“Mr Eames,” Arthur called, successfully halting Eames.

“Dropped the Prime Minister, have we?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood, adjusting his jacket as he stared Eames down. “Mal warned me about you. But trust me,  _ Prime Minister _ , I am the best at my job.” Arthur seemed to stand straighter as he spoke, as though he was gaining confidence with every word. “I was hired for a reason and that reason is to guard you. No matter what you do or how much you dislike it, I will continue to do my job until the day you retire from office.”

“If you last that long, Darling.” Eames couldn’t help himself, he had to try and gain a little bit of power back. Arthur was taking far too much control away from him.

“Read over my security report and we can arrange to discuss any details you’d like to change later on in the week. Thank you for your time, Prime Minister,” Arthur said with a brief nod and stalked out of Eames’ office.

Eames leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands against his lips.

Competent and gorgeous. He was officially buggered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any errors floating in this chapter. It's unbeta'd because really, who has time for that?

After a shower and changing into shorts and a t-shirt, Eames actually felt like he was going to have an evening off from his job. There was something about not wearing a suit that made him feel more at ease, less like the leader of a country. He was just Eames and he hadn’t felt like just himself in years.

He had one foot out the door when a hand settled on his shoulder, the unfamiliar weight a pleasant warmth.

“You have not been cleared to leave the premises,” Arthur’s delightfully deadpan voice informed him.

Eames spun out of Arthur’s grasp, grinning. “If I recall correctly, I did inform you of my plans for this evening.”

“The dog shelter? You were serious?”

“Now, I’m not entirely sure what ma petite puce has been telling you, but there are two things I never joke about, Darling. Dogs and whiskey. It would be good to learn that.” Eames turned and walked outside as calmly as he could.

A door closing informed Eames that he wasn’t going to the shelter alone.

Thankfully, the shelter was only a few blocks away from Downing Street so Eames took the opportunity to walk. The weather was starting to cool, autumn sinking its teeth into London’s abysmal summer. Eames preferred warmer weather, but growing up in London had made him immune to the terrible dreariness of the city. Arthur, on the other hand, seemed to be shrinking in on himself in an effort to keep warm. Eames made a mental note to find out where Arthur was from specifically and to take him out to get a proper winter coat.

“How often do you go to this shelter?” Arthur asked as they walked through the door.

“Eames!” Steve called, opening his arms wide and embracing Eames with a one-armed hug. “Perfect timing. We just got some new friends. I think you’ll really like them.”

“Brilliant,” Eames replied, dutifully following Steve towards the kennels.

Steve showed him three dogs, each of them as eager as Eames was to have some cuddles. He had missed the uncomplicated companionship of a dog. Since he’d started his career as a politician, he hadn’t had a pet. That was why Eames had started visiting the shelter. It was an easy way to get in some dog time without the responsibility.

“There’s one more lot that I think would love to see you,” Steve said as he led Eames to the other end of the kennels.

Excitement bubbled in his chest and he couldn’t contain himself, meeting the tiny pack of gorgeous chocolate labradors the moment the door was unlocked.

“Oh hello you lot,” Eames murmured, sitting on the ground and grinning as the puppies pounced on him, licking and yapping happily.

“Sir…”

Eames ignored Arthur in favour of asking Steve the names of the puppies.

“We’ve got Rosemary, Basil, Clove, Ginger, Licorice, and Pepper. Oh…” Steve counted the puppies harassing Eames. “Where’s Pepper got off to?”

Eames popped his head up from where the puppies had knocked him over and spotted the one apparently named Pepper. She was whining at Arthur’s feet, a stuffed toy in her mouth. Eames’ heart clenched slightly and he refused to let himself think that it was because the sight was just too adorable—the way Arthur was standing, hands behind his back, eyes boring a hole into the wall as he ignored the puppy.

Eames watched Pepper nudge Arthur’s leg until he finally relented and bent down, grabbing the toy and throwing it.

“Are you fond of dogs, Darling?” Eames called, tracking Pepper’s trot to fetch the toy and take it back to Arthur.

“Not particularly.”

“She seems rather fond of you.”

Arthur hummed, trying to ignore Pepper at his feet again.

“Darling, I think you’ll find it much easier if you just give in.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur muttered, finally meeting Eames’ gaze. “We should go.”

Eames sighed and whistled, finally getting Pepper’s attention on him. When she bumbled over to him, Eames gently picked her up to have a proper look. She was beautiful. Too beautiful with her oversized ears and tongue peeking out.

“I know that look,” Steve teased.

“No. I don’t have the time for a dog,” Eames replied sadly. As much as he wanted to have a companion, being Prime Minister was a bit lonely, he knew there was no way he could actually look after a dog and run the country all by himself.

“That’s a shame.”

Eames rubbed Pepper’s ears, listening to her happy panting and finding it ridiculously hard to stand up and leave. Her syrupy brown eyes pleaded with him and Eames reluctantly put her down. “Alright, Darling. Let’s go.”

The puppies all followed and Eames gently pushed them back so Steve could get the door closed but Pepper ducked past him, running to collide with Arthur, nearly tripping him up.

“What the—?”

“No you don’t,” Steve reprimanded and grabbed Pepper, walking her back to the kennel and her siblings.

“Wait.” Eames held out a hand, wiggling his fingers so Steve would have the dog over. “I think I might take this one, actually. She has good taste.” Eames winked at Arthur, satisfaction coursing through him at the eye-roll he received.

Half an hour—and some adoption papers—later, Eames was walking his very own puppy back to Downing Street.

“I am not your dog walker, Prime Minister,” Arthur said as though the thought had actually crossed Eames’ mind.

“It’s Eames and no, of course you aren’t. I’ll be walking her, you’ll just be there as well.” Eames smiled at Arthur, imagining all the wonderful early morning walks he and Pepper were going to get up to. Finally, he was going to have a valid excuse to go for a walk without an entire team of people following him.

"You can't just... I feel obliged to inform you that's an unnecessary security risk.”

Eames crouched down, rubbing Pepper’s cheeks. “Meanie Uncle Darling doesn’t want you to be free.”

“Oh for the love of—” Arthur groaned. “If I have to walk her even once…”

“Don’t worry, Darling, you’ll never have to walk her.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You said never,” Arthur complained as he dropped Pepper’s lead on top of the latest budget report.

“Did I?” Eames hummed as he brushed the lead aside and continued reading.

Since bringing Pepper home, Arthur had found something to gripe about every day. To start with, it had been what Eames had tried to feed her. Arthur had started buying the _correct_ puppy kibble. He had taken offence to the collar Eames had chosen. Arthur had gone out and bought a collar he deemed more appropriate for her to be seen in public with. He’d even complained that Pepper slept on Eames’ bed far too much and she was going to be spoiled. Arthur had gone out and bought her a dog bed that same day.

If Eames’ name hadn’t been on the adoption papers, he would have guessed that Arthur was the real owner. But he wasn’t going to mention that. Not when Arthur was glaring at him over the desk, that little wrinkle back between his brows.

“You’ve only had her a week and I’m already doing more for her than you are. I am your bodyguard, not a dog sitter.”

“She likes you better,” Eames replied, dropping his gaze back to the report. He’d been trying to figure out how they could get some money back for the better part of an hour and couldn’t see anywhere they could make cuts.

“Do you ever follow through on anything you promise?”

Eames grit his teeth, his jaw aching with the pressure of keeping his mouth shut. The opposition had been throwing the same insult at him since he’d taken office. Apparently, no one believed that Eames would follow through on any of his campaign promises and it was a bit of a sore spot for him. Surely Arthur didn’t know about that. He was just venting his frustrations.

One look at his smug face told Eames everything he needed to know, though. Arthur knew that his comment had cut deep.

“I don’t recall making you any promises, Darling.” Eames leaned back in his chair, trying to seem imposing somehow despite the fact that Arthur was standing, hands pressed into the desk.

“You said never.”

“Not exactly a promise, is it?” Apparently, that wasn’t the right thing to say, judging by the way Arthur’s face pinched in a rather unattractive way. “Alright, alright,” Eames said, holding up his hands as a sign of surrender. “I _promise_ you won’t have to walk Pepper from now on.”

Arthur huffed out a breath and left Eames’ office without another word. And maybe, just maybe, Eames watched the way his arse flexed with every step, wondering if it looked even better without any trousers on.

—

“Don’t make a sound poppet,” Eames whispered as he clutched Pepper to his chest and snuck out of Downing Street.

So far, no one had spotted him. He assumed that since he was wearing trackies and a t-shirt, it rather helped. He didn’t look like the PM. He looked more like a homeless person that was stealing a dog. That probably wasn’t actually any better, but Eames had successfully made it to the park without anyone rushing after him. So, he figured he was in the clear.

Pepper was enthusiastic at the park, tugging at her lead hard enough to drag Eames around. He thought it was more like she was taking him for a walk rather than the other way around, but her happy barking made it all the worthwhile.

He was spotted by a few people and took pictures with them, readily agreeing to them putting the pictures up on Instagram and whatever other social media platform they wanted. Mostly, people wanted to know about Pepper and Eames was more than willing to inform them that he’d recently adopted her from a shelter. He hoped Steve got an influx of people after this little stunt.

By the time they got back to Downing Street, Pepper was asleep in his arms and Eames was ready to tumble into his own bed. He had forgotten how exhausting it could be with a puppy.

“Where have you been?” Arthur asked, arms folded across his chest, one foot kicked out and crossed at the ankle as he leaned against the pillar in the foyer.

“Walking Pepper here,” he murmured as he nodded down at the sleeping puppy. He tried not to jostle her too much as he started the climb up to his bedroom where they’d arranged her own sleeping quarters.

“Without security?”

Eames frowned but didn’t respond. If Arthur couldn’t figure that out on his own, he really needed a new profession.

“Do you realise how monumentally stupid that was? No, of course, you don’t. You don’t think about anything more than yourself.”

Eames sighed and nudged his bedroom door open, setting Pepper down on her bed and unclipping the lead before tossing it onto his bed.

“Anything could have happened to you. You’re the Prime Minister for Christ’s sake. You can’t just go wandering the city by yourself.”

“Darling, as much as it thrills me to listen to your voice while you rant, I had rather hoped I could take a shower and hop into bed. If you’d like to continue while I do so, please, feel free. But…” Eames waved a hand, indicating that Arthur had actually followed Eames into his bedroom, something that they had so far avoided.

“Oh…”

Eames hummed, waiting for Arthur to do something but glance around the bedroom. It was endearing, the lost, frantic quality to his eyes, but Eames didn’t have all evening to wait for Arthur to gather his wits.

He pulled his shirt off in one smooth motion and toed his shoes off before Arthur managed to come back to himself.

Eames took pride in his appearance. He wasn’t exactly the most muscled guy in the world but he wasn’t flabby either. From the way Arthur’s eyes widened and roamed his torso, Eames had to assume that Arthur was appreciating his body as well.

“Um… Yes… Sorry. Goodnight, Prime Minister,” Arthur managed to choke out before bolting from Eames’ bedroom.

It shouldn’t have been so satisfying, making Arthur uncomfortable like that. But Eames couldn’t help himself from calling after Arthur, “sweet dreams, Darling.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd because I just wanna get this up!  
> I hope you can forgive any errors and enjoy it all the same.

“You could always walk next to me,” Eames called over his shoulder.

Since he had taken Pepper for her unsupervised walk, Arthur had insisted on being near him practically twenty-four/seven. The only reprieve Eames got was when he was asleep but even then, Arthur had started to haunt his dreams; tantalisingly out of reach as he stood there, watching Eames with cool disapproval in his perfectly tailored suits. Even in his dreams, Eames wasn’t getting any.

So, walking with Arthur trailing behind him was near impossible.

“I could, but I won’t,” Arthur replied, his tone impassive as they passed another crowd giggling over the fact that their PM was out walking a dog.

Eames had thought that since it had been three weeks since his first appearance with Pepper, the novelty would have worn off. But apparently, it had only gotten worse. Especially once they found out where he walked her.

Since he’d made Arthur the promise, Eames couldn’t even hide from the crowds that amassed, and he’d had to start wearing pressed trousers, shirt, and a tie to walk his bloody dog. He just wanted the chance to wear trackies and a ratty shirt. But that was tainted now.

“It would be much easier to keep me safe if you were closer, Darling.”

“Excuse me, Prime Minister…” a youngish male asked.

Eames stopped his dawdle and looked at the brave soul that had actually talked to him. He placed the kid as a uni student, admiring the patches haphazardly sewn onto his backpack. Peroxide blond hair peeked out from under a burgundy beanie and he had a vest on under his navy pea coat. It was a slightly odd combination, but Eames liked it. The mix of comfort and style was something he wished he could explore more.

“How can I help?”

“Well… uh… I was wondering if maybe you might…”

Eames smiled. “With or without the dog?” he asked as he moved in closer. He couldn’t remember how it had become a thing but whenever he was out—and spotted—people felt the need to take a picture with him. It wasn’t as though he was a celebrity, but Eames couldn’t bring himself to mind. Especially since it had seemed to help with getting some of the younger voter outs.

“One with and one without?”

“Righty-oh then.”

The pictures came out fairly well, though Eames thought he looked a tad shabby in that last one, and eventually waved James—Eames finally asked his name after the pictures were taken—only to be accosted by five other people wanting their picture taken with him as well.

Eames didn’t have the heart to say no to any of them.

—

As much as Eames loved meeting and greeting, it took something out of him. Whenever he had a full schedule of socialising with people, Eames always felt the need to run off and decompress by himself.

It was how he found himself in the kitchen at two in the morning, melting chocolate and hoping like hell that he remembered his mother’s recipe. It had been years since he’d felt the need to make chocolate molten cakes, but after a full day of taking pictures with people at the park followed by three laborious meetings, Eames needed a little sugary decadence to keep him sane.

As he stirred, Eames’ mind cleared, allowing him to slip into a mode where he was just action, no thoughts. There was a satisfying calmness that came with stirring chocolate, watching it melt into a gooey mess in the bowl. He figured it had something to do with the fact that he knew that if he mixed flour, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla essence, and chocolate together, he could get the gooiest, most delicious chocolate fondants in the world. The familiarity of knowing the outcome was most likely what kept him coming back to the old recipe.

“What are you doing?”

Eames glanced over his shoulder, sparing Arthur a brief look before going back to his stirring. “Melting chocolate.”

“Well, yes,” Arthur said, his voice getting louder as he got closer. “But why?”

“To bake with.” Eames moved the pot off the heat, grabbing a tea towel to place to warm bowl on while he mixed the dry ingredients together.

“Can’t you ever give a straight answer?”

“Why, Darling, people might think you were sick of reading between the lines.”

Arthur sighed heavily, drawing Eames’ full gaze. Weariness dragged Arthur’s shoulders down, the knot of his tie was pulled askew, and one curl had escaped his perfectly gelled style.

“ _ Arthur _ , I am making chocolate fondants,” Eames said, deciding to play nice since he could clearly read Arthur’s exhaustion.

“Why are you making fondants at two in the morning when you should be sleeping?”

“Because I couldn’t sleep,” he said with a shrug and returned to his baking.

“You should have told me—”

“So you could do what, exactly? Read me a bedtime story? Warm me some milk? Arthur, I have been taking care of myself for far longer than you imagine.”

“You weren’t in your room when I checked,” Arthur said, smiling wryly as though it was some sort of apology.

“Darling, do you watch me sleep?”

“Oh for the love of— No,” Arthur growled, “I don’t watch you sleep.”

“Because you said—”

“I am well aware of what I said.”

Eames snickered but didn’t say anything more. The chocolate had cooled enough not to cook the egg in the mixture so he set about folding the wet ingredients into the dry.

There was a scrape of a chair and rusting clothes as Eames worked but neither he nor Arthur said a word. Eames was focused on the fondants and he had to assume Arthur had found something to occupy himself as well.

“Who taught you to bake?” Arthur asked, finally breaking the silence as Eames spooned the mixture into the ramekins.

“My mother,” Eames replied without looking up. “When I was little, she would let me up on the bench and give me the spoon to mix everything with. Then, of course, she’d let me lick everything clean.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Delicious, you mean.”

“You could have gotten salmonella.”

Eames laughed, only stopping when he closed the oven and turned to see Arthur’s face. “You’re serious?”

“Raw egg is a disaster waiting to happen. Really, I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

Eames cocked his head, a plan formulating as he stared at Arthur. It was truly unfortunate if Arthur had never had the pleasure of licking a spatula clean and Eames was determined to remedy it. He grabbed the spatula and held it out to Arthur, walking closer. “You have to try some.”

“No way,” Arthur said, leaning back as Eames waved the offending utensil in his face.

“For me, Darling?”

“Why would I do anything for you?”

“Because it would make me unbearably happy?” Eames suggested, dragging a finger through the unused mixture and popping it into his mouth, moaning a little unnecessarily.

“You are utterly ridiculous,” Arthur murmured but slid a finger through the mixture and licked his finger clean, giving Eames a look that clearly asked  _ ‘are you happy now?’ _

“See?” Eames said as he hopped up onto the counter, resting the spatula back in the bowl. “I promise to look after you if you get ill.”

"Why aren't you more like this?"

"Like what?" Eames hummed.

"Calmer. More like... you."

"Darling, no one voted for the ponce who can bake. Besides, who in their right mind would actually want this in their life?"

"Me," Arthur mumbled so lowly Eames wasn't sure he heard correctly.

“You’ve got a little…” Eames leaned forward slightly, dragging his thumb over Arthur’s lower lip, wiping the remnant of chocolate away. Arthur’s breath hitched and he leaned closer, chasing Eames’ hand and Eames couldn’t stop himself from closing the distance between them.

Just before he felt the satisfaction of Arthur’s lips against his own, there was a crash of the door opening followed by a string of irritated French.

“Oh, Eamesie,” Mal said just as he was hopping off the counter, wiping his hands on his trousers as he tried to pretend as though he hadn’t almost kissed the head of his security. “What are you doing down here, Arthur?”

“Would you like a fondant?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone like the fondant recipe? Because they are delicious! And I have a great (and very easy) one.
> 
>  **UPDATED FOR THE RECIPE**  
>  Chocolate Fondants
> 
> 100g dark chocolate, chopped  
> 100g butter  
> 150g soft brown sugar  
> 3 large eggs  
> Half a teaspoon vanilla extract  
> 50g plain flour
> 
> Extra butter and cocoa
> 
> Preheat oven to 200C. Butter and dust with cocoa four ramekins and place on a baking tray.  
> Put the chocolate and butter in a heatproof bowl and set over a pot of hot water (or microwave to melt) and stir until smooth, then set aside to cool slightly for 15 minutes.  
> Mix in the sugar, then the eggs one at a time, followed by the vanilla extract and finally the flour. Divide the mixture evenly between the ramekins.  
> Bake for 10-12 minutes, or until the tops are firm to touch but the centre still feels squidgy. Carefully run a knife around the inside edge of each ramekin, then turn out onto serving plates.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you oceaxe, somedrunkpirate, and pinkys_creature_feature for all looking over this chapter.  
> I'm still unconvinced but I can't look at it any longer so... have at it!

Walking Pepper was Eames’ favourite part of the day. It was one of the few opportunities he got to actually allow himself a moment to breathe and the fact that it was sole one on one time with Arthur certainly wasn’t hurting anything.

The only problem was the Pepper had started to get a little rascally. Eames was adamant that it had nothing to do with him allowing Pepper to basically do what she wanted. It was just because she was a free soul. Who was he to chain her down?

Arthur was the one that insisted on rules and regulations to keep her in line. Eames just couldn’t figure out how to follow through on them. So, when Pepper looked at him with those syrupy eyes, begging to be let free for just a few minutes, he couldn’t deny her.

It was how Pepper had ended up covered entirely in mud.

Eames had had every intention of bathing her the minute they were back home, but as soon as he stepped through the door, Mal had accosted him with some urgent issue that needed seeing to. So Eames had passed Pepper off to Arthur—who had held her as far away from him as he could manage—and disappeared into his office.

“Please, Mal, just…” Eames sighed. “We’ve been going over this for the last twenty minutes and we haven’t gotten anywhere. Can’t I possibly have a loo break and maybe get a cuppa?” As much as he loved hearing the complaints from his cabinet members, Eames had been dying to take a leak from the moment he’d stepped into his office and couldn’t bring himself to hold on any longer. “Just a quick break,” Eames added at Mal’s scowl, “then I promise you can continue to relay just how much the opposition hates me.”

“Fine,” Mal huffed. “Ten minutes and then you give me your full attention for the remainder of the afternoon.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, waving a hand as he escaped, rushing to the bathroom.

He heard the sounds of splashing before he saw the disaster zone that was his bathroom. It looked as though there was water over every surface: the sink, the mirror, the floor, the walls, Arthur.

Eames’ gaze stopped the instant he saw Arthur on his knees, white shirt translucent and clinging to him. He swallowed hard, trying to tear his gaze away but he was fascinated, swearing he could see the tiniest hint of peach lace underneath.

“Hi,” Arthur breathed, his cheeks flushing when he saw Eames.

“You look like you climbed in with her,” Eames managed to say around his surprisingly dry mouth. In a past life, Eames must have really pissed someone off to now be tortured with a devastatingly gorgeous man with a wet shirt, kneeling on his bathroom floor. Or maybe he was just going to go to hell with the thoughts that were floating through his head.

Arthur was his head of security. It was entirely improper to imagine that alluring mouth wrapped around his—

“Did you need me?” Arthur asked over Pepper’s splashing in the bath.

Eames tried to focus on the puppy, he really did, but when Arthur turned around, it became much clearer that he was wearing some sort of… camisole or… perhaps it was just a vest… but Eames swore it was lingerie he could spy under Arthur’s shirt. His fingers twitched against his thigh, desperate to reach out and unbutton Arthur’s shirt to see if he was actually wearing lingerie under his clothes.

“Eames, did you need something?” Arthur asked again, standing and tugging at his shirt so it wasn’t clinging to him nearly as much.

“Uh…” Eames said, his mouth moving without his brain getting past the image before him. “Um… N-not at all. Just needed to use the… uh…” Eames blinked, swallowing hard as Arthur’s shirt stuck to his skin again, outlining whatever it was that he was wearing under there. “…loo.”

“Of course, let me just—”

“I can help.” Eames stepped forward and reached for Pepper at the same time Arthur did. Their hands collided as they both picked the puppy up. The stood, holding Pepper and staring at each other. Eames licked his lips and stepped forward, not enough to press against Arthur but surely it was enough to telegraph what he wanted.

After their interrupted evening in the kitchen, Eames had wanted to get Arthur alone to continue what had nearly happened—no matter how inappropriate it would be to shag his bodyguard—but Arthur had dodged him at every turn. Now, Arthur was standing in front of him, eyes wide in what Eames hoped was anticipation.

“Arthur…” Eames murmured, averting his eyes so he could try to decipher some sort of coherent thought.

“I should go,” Arthur blurted, bolting from the bathroom before Eames could catch him. All Eames got was a wet puppy shoved at his chest, soaking through his own shirt as she wriggled incessantly.

Eames stared at the bathroom door, wondering what the hell had just happened and how things had taken that turn. He’d thought… Well, Eames wasn’t entirely sure what he had thought but he couldn’t figure out why Arthur had run away, unless he was embarrassed.

Pepper yapped, demanding Eames’ attention.

He glanced down at the squirming puppy and sighed. “What am I meant to do now, hmmm?”

She yapped in response and licked at whatever part of him she could reach.

“Let’s get you dry.”

—

Eames couldn’t stop replaying everything in his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Arthur, shirt clinging to him and peach lace teasingly out of reach.

He’d given up on sleep a whole half hour earlier and had Googled—in a private browser—male lingerie, wondering if there was any chance he could find something that might be similar to what he thought he had seen under Arthur’s shirt. He’d been through many sites, some of them disturbingly explicit in their content.

While he was definitely in favour of seeing many dicks in all their varying forms, he wasn’t in the mood to see them all blatantly staring at him. Luckily, he managed to find a site that was much more tasteful with their pictures. The men weren’t overtly displaying anything and it was clearly about the lingerie rather than the bodies. Eames was captivated.

And it was how he discovered something called a lace bodysuit that was extremely similar to what he thought he’d seen on Arthur.

Eames’ heart picked up, insistent in letting him know that he was more than alright with Arthur wearing something like that. In fact, his dick was much more determined to inform him that he had a kink he’d never known about before.

Arthur in lingerie.

“Fuck,” he muttered and slipped a hand into his pyjamas, hissing as his palm slid over his sensitive flesh. There was no way he should have allowed himself to picture Arthur in nothing but that bodysuit, but Eames couldn’t help himself. He let the scene play out, Arthur crawling toward him, lower lip caught between his teeth as he watched Eames stroke himself.

It was all too much—and it had been far too long since Eames had gotten any—and he was coming in an embarrassingly short time, spilling all over his hand and pants.

Eames leaned against his pillows, closing his eyes as he panted, trying to regain control over his heart; in more than one sense of the word.

He was in so much trouble.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you somedrunkpirate for having a quick look over this and reminding me that I am not actually losing my mind entirely.

Eames had a plan.

Albeit it was a terrible one but it was a plan nonetheless.

All he needed to do was get Arthur alone for more than five minutes, which considering his ridiculous schedule, was turning out to be nearly impossible. Mal had him booked solidly for the rest of the week and all Eames had managed to get were glimpses out of the corner of his eye of his annoyingly calm bodyguard.

Arthur had been aloof since the day in the bathroom. If Eames had been a suspicious man, he would have thought that Arthur was actively avoiding having a conversation about what had happened. Not that anything had really happened. As far as Eames could tell, his interest in what lay underneath Arthur’s clothes had put the man off. Trying to tell him otherwise was a right pain in the arse.

So Eames had come up with a plan and it all rested on Pepper’s tiny little frame. She’d woken from a nap, determined to be as painful as possible so Eames had taken her for a walk on his shortened lunch break. The walk had been part of his plan. Doing Pepper’s collar a notch looser than usual was also part of the plan. Having Mal ring him in a panic because he wasn’t where he was apparently supposed to be wasn’t part of the plan.

“Darling,” Eames said, turning from Pepper so he could grab Arthur’s attention.

“Yes, Prime Minister?” Arthur asked, carefully avoiding Eames’ gaze.

“Can you take over walking Pepper, I really need to head back to Downing Street. Mal is throwing a fit and I need to see what I’ve done wrong this time,” Eames tried to keep his tone playful, a little teasing but it sounded off even to him. He was trying too hard and Arthur was sure to pick up on it.

The moment Arthur took the lead from Eames, Pepper was off, her already loose collar slipping off entirely.

Eames made an aborted attempt to chase after her because really, now wasn’t exactly the best time for Pepper to be following through on their terribly thought out plan. He didn’t have the time to hunt for her with Arthur and, judging by the look Arthur was giving him, Arthur didn’t want to have to look after a naughty puppy either.

“Don’t look at me, she’s a rascally little blighter.”

“Takes after you,” Arthur muttered and stalked off, leaving Eames by himself with nothing to do but return to Mal and the disaster that was waiting for him.

—

The disaster with Mal had turned into three other meetings that apparently couldn’t be put off and now Eames was exhausted and had escaped to his bedroom to lie down before dinner with the Japanese ambassador.

He was nodding off, curled on top of the duvet still dressed in his suit. Eames was too tired to care about getting undressed when he’d just have to sort himself out all over again in a few hours. If he looked a little rumpled, that was fine. At least, he thought so. Mal would have a differing opinion, of course. If he could get to the restaurant without her spotting him, he was going to be in with a grin.

A yap followed by a gut-punch woke Eames from his nap. “‘Cor blimey,” he yelled, scrabbling to grab at the thing that was currently wriggling all over him. “Where the bloody hell did you come from?”

Pepper yapped and licked at his face, all eager to be loved even though Eames could feel how slippery she was.

His nap had been utterly destroyed by a muddy puppy.

Eames glanced over Pepper’s head, catching on Arthur who was furious, his brows pinched in a way Eames wanted to call adorable but knew he was already flirting with fire.

“Your dog,” Arthur growled before turning on his heel and disappearing.

Eames didn’t even have time to call after him, to demand he come back and explain what the problem was. It wasn’t as though Pepper could have given up the ghost about their plan. She couldn’t speak. Unless that was something she hadn’t shown him yet. He held her aloft in his hands, finally taking in her appearance properly.

Not only was she covered in mud, but she smelled as though she’d been rolling in a sewer and Arthur had just tossed her on him.

Eames groaned and looked down at his previously snow white shirt. Sleeping in his suit had been for naught, apparently.

“Well then, better get you cleaned up before I worry about myself,” Eames muttered, hoisting himself up and holding her close so she didn’t drip mud all over his pristine carpet.

—

Arthur hadn’t accompanied him to the dinner. Mal had said it was because Arthur was feeling unwell, something he’d eaten or some other unlikely lie. Eames had let it go, though, because he felt bad enough as it was and he hadn’t been entirely caught out in his plot.

Unfortunately, Arthur’s disappearance was causing problems for Eames. In the weeks that they’d been working together, Eames had gotten used to him and now he found that he rather didn’t care for anyone else guarding him at all. Especially not Dom Cobb who had an unfortunate perpetual squint. He only put up with Dom for the sake of Mal. It was far easier to just agree to have Dom guard him for the night than to put up with Mal sulking for a month.

“It has been an absolute pleasure,” Eames said, shaking Saito’s hand as they both stood from the table.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Saito responded, bowing his head in farewell.

Saito was fairly new to the role of ambassador but he had so much charm and an easy way about him that Eames was actually looking forward to building up their relationship. He could see Japan and Britain starting to create better agreements, figuring out a much better way to move forward together, and Eames was positive it was going to boost his ratings with the public. It didn’t hurt that Saito seemed to be grinning at him, ensuring that Eames left the restaurant on top of the world.

“That went well,” Dom commented as they climbed into a black cab.

Eames hummed a noncommittal response, preferring to look out the window as the streets zipped by. He was mostly looking forward to being able to climb back into his bed and catch up on his sleep. He had the entire weekend off and was planning on doing absolutely nothing but sleeping and possibly playing fetch with Pepper. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had two whole days off in a row.

He was thinking of a lemon syrup cake he’d seen in a magazine as the cab pulled up outside Downing Street. He left Dom to take care paying the driver and dragged his exhausted self to his room.

It wasn’t until he was climbing under the covers that he realised Pepper wasn’t in her bed or even on his. Panic welled inside his chest. When he’d left, she’d been happily chewing on a bone in her bed but now the bone was there and she wasn’t.

Eames didn’t even bother with slippers as he started hunting for his puppy. He didn’t want to think the worst, that she could have gotten outside somehow and was now lost or possibly…

He shook his head, determined not to think about it and instead checked every single one of her usual haunts but couldn’t find her anywhere. She had pulled a Houdini and Eames was ready to call Mal in a panic when he heard a soft whimper. Her whimper. The kind of noise she made when she was having a nightmare.

Eames rushed to where he heard the noises and pushed the door open, realising far too late that it was someone’s bedroom. He froze, hand on the door as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. There was a lamp on next to the bed, casting a hazy glow over the occupants of the bed.

Pepper and Arthur.

Arthur was curled around her, one arm keeping her tucked neatly against him, and they were both huffing quiet breaths into one another. It seemed as though Pepper had burrowed deeper in an attempt to outrun whatever was plaguing her dreams and Eames was captivated, his heart clenching as he watched them both sleeping.

He wanted to move closer, get a better look at what Arthur looked like when he wasn’t scowling at Eames but he knew that was crossing a line he’d never be able to come back over. So he turned away, closing the door as quietly as he could so as not to disturb them and crept back to his own bed.

Eames lay awake for hours, the image of Arthur and Pepper burned into his memory. Even when he closed his eyes, all he could see was their dark hair curled together. He longed to be a part of it and eventually fell into a fitful sleep, waking frequently, reaching out for someone that wasn’t there.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd baby! So if you see any glaring errors, please forgive me. But otherwise, just go with the flow and enjoy the rising tension.

There was a luxury in not having to wake up to an alarm that Eames thoroughly enjoyed. It was so ingrained into him that he should wake up before the sun rose just so he could start his day off well but that morning, all Eames did when he woke up was wrap the duvet tighter around him and closed his eyes.

He didn’t fall back to sleep, he was far too awake for that, but there was a pleasant sensation that was warming him through. He had no obligations. There was nothing in the world he  _ had _ to do. He could walk Pepper for as long as he wanted. He could read a book. He could go see a movie. He could bake.

As he lay contemplating what he could do with his day, his thoughts turned to Arthur. Since Eames had the weekend off, he wondered if Arthur did as well. He wondered if Arthur was still curled around Pepper, keeping each other warm, their dark hair mixing together.

Eames shook his head and sat up, not willing to let thoughts of Arthur overwhelm him. Not so early in the day, at least. He would save all of that for when he was safely tucked in bed again for the night. There was less chance that anyone would disturb him in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t until he pushed open the bathroom door, ready to start his day, that he noticed the tiny lump in Pepper’s bed.

He hadn’t heard Pepper come in and his bedroom door was closed. That meant…

“Arthur,” Eames muttered.

That man was a walking contradiction and Eames was positive he was never going to get to the bottom of him.

—

Eames had spent his afternoon exercising. He’d taken Pepper for a walk—with Dom because it appeared that Arthur also had the day off—and had followed that up by spending a whole hour and a half in the gym, trying to work himself into an exhaustion so he’d fall asleep at a decent hour.

The theory had been perfect.

The practice was failing spectacularly.

Groaning, Eames climbed out of bed and donned a pair of sweats and a threadbare shirt before heading down to the kitchen, laptop in hand. He desperately wished that for once in his life, he could have been capable of sleeping through the night, but he was grateful that there was a fully stocked kitchen he could raid whenever he wanted.

After setting up his laptop, choosing a Spotify playlist that had quiet, calming music, Eames pulled out ingredients; chocolate, butter, flour, sugar, vanilla essence, cocoa, eggs, and was making a brownie before he realised it. Growing up, it had always been the thing he baked when he was trying to figure out a problem. He had gone through a period of baking a brownie almost every day before he came to the realisation that he was actually attracted to boys and didn’t solely want to be friends with them. His mother had banned him from the kitchen after that. But it hadn’t stopped him. That was how he had started baking in the middle of the night.

Now, he was melting the chocolate and butter in a bowl over a saucepan, mixing it slowly as he thought of Arthur. There were rules and regulations that he couldn’t get around. There was no doubt that it would be highly inappropriate to try and sleep with his head of security, no matter how amazing he was sure it would be.

He sighed heavily, pulling the bowl off the heat and setting it on a tea towel so it could cool while he sifted the flour and cocoa. A calm settled over him as he went through the motions, measuring then sifting then mixing, gently folding everything together until it was a deliciously gooey mess.

Eames ignored the temptation to dip a finger into the mixture and instead poured it all into a tin. He wasn’t entirely sure he was going to be able to wait the forty-five minutes for it to bake before he devoured the whole thing, but he’d brought his laptop down with him. If he couldn’t sleep and had to wait for the brownie to bake, he was at least going to put the time to good use.

The middle of the night seemed like the perfect time to browse lingerie sites.

With the brownie in the oven and everything cleaned up, Eames sat down at the counter, dragging his laptop towards him. He had just opened up a private browser when someone walked into the kitchen, and Eames could only thank God that he hadn’t opened a single site yet. That would have been the worst possible thing, being caught looking up something like that by an employee…

“Are you honestly baking again?” Arthur asked, his voice harshly loud in the quiet of the kitchen.

“Obviously,” Eames replied, shutting his laptop and turning to face him.

He was sleep-rumpled, t-shirt riding up just a little and showing off a tantalizing bare strip of skin.

Arthur shook his head and shuffled towards the kettle, flicking the switch and grabbing a mug from the shelf.

“Can’t sleep?” Eames asked, trying to cover the silence that had settled over them. Really, he was trying to hide the fact that he felt like an errant child that had been caught wanking by his mum. But… It was close enough, he supposed.

“Obviously,” Arthur muttered, using Eames’ own poor response against him.

“Right,” Eames said with a small smile and turned to face his laptop again, trying to keep Arthur in his peripheral.

He wanted to ask why Arthur had been canoodling with his puppy last night. He wanted to ask when Arthur had taken a shine to her. But he could sense that any questions wouldn’t be welcome. He wondered if it was because of the bathroom situation or if Arthur was actually sick, but he couldn’t decide if it would be too intrusive to ask. The only thing he could decisively say was that he didn’t actually want Arthur to leave the kitchen. Two whole days without him had Eames aching for his sardonic comments, his witty repartee, his warm eyes, the crease between his brows, his dimples… 

“Are you feeling better?” Eames asked just as Arthur was walking out the kitchen door, nearly losing his opportunity completely.

“What?”

“Mal said you were sick which was why Dom was with me.”

“Oh,” Arthur breathed, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Yeah, I’m feeling better.”

Eames nodded, happy to hear that his head of security wasn’t deathly ill but he still felt as though there was something off and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that it all stemmed from the bathroom incident: the last time they had  _ actually _ talked to one another.

Seeing that Eames wasn’t going to speak again, Arthur turned to go, hesitating just long enough for Eames to call his name and stop him.

“Would you like a hot cocoa?”

“I’ve got tea.”

“That’s not going to help you sleep, Darling, believe me.”

Arthur sighed, leaning into the door frame and staring at the mug. “Alright,” he finally said, cautiously walking over to the counter and letting Eames take the mug from him.

“When I couldn’t sleep as a tyke, my mum used to make me hot cocoa. It’s a foolproof method, I promise,” Eames said as he tried to appear perkier than he was actually feeling. It’s what people usually wanted from him and seeing how Arthur was barely looking at him, Eames figured pretending to be happy wasn’t exactly going to hurt things. “It’s not exactly revolutionary, warm milk helping you sleep, but it was our moments. In the kitchen, you know? I loved watching her stir the chocolate into the milk. See, my mum doesn’t use powder, right?” Eames asked but continued what he was doing, not bothering to look up at Arthur. “She melts the chocolate into the warm milk.”

As he spoke, Eames broke chunks off the chocolate bar. Green & Black’s was the only chocolate he ever used for his cocoa. He’d been entirely spoiled by his mother. “Gives it a richer flavour, you know?”

“What is it about this kitchen that makes you open up?” Arthur wondered, breaking through Eames’ blathering.

“What?” Eames dropped the last chunk of chocolate into the warm milk, stirring so it wouldn’t stick to the bottom of the pot as he waited for Arthur to elaborate. Surely there had to be more to Arthur’s thought than just what he had said.

He watched Arthur trail a finger over the counter, eyes downcast and avoiding Eames at all costs.

Eames sighed and poured the milk into a clean mug, pushing it towards Arthur before he took a deep, steadying breath. He’d never actually had to explain himself to anyone before and now the thoughts were all floating through his head, untethered and impossible to catch. “The kitchen is my thinking place,” he said softly, keeping his gaze locked on Arthur’s fingers. “It gives me a chance to just take a step back and breathe. I think it’s because no one bothers me here—”

“Except for me.”

“—and well,” Eames shrugged, “I don’t really have to be anyone but myself in here.”

“Then why were you acting?”

Eames hummed a question.

“Before, when you were making the cocoa, you were being your public persona. Not… you…” Arthur finished quietly into his mug.

“Well… um… that’s not…”

“It’s not like your public persona isn’t great,” Arthur continued, saving Eames from his awkward fumblings. “I just like this you better. You’re quieter, less abrasive. It’s nice.”

“Darling,” Eames sighed, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“And you ruined it.”

Eames laughed, resting his elbows on the bench and leaning forward so he could catch Arthur’s eye. “Thank you,” he said as sincerely as he possibly could, savouring the way Arthur’s cheeks pinked up just a touch. “Now drink up while the milk is still warm.”

In the silence that followed, Eames made himself a cocoa, enjoying the quiet camaraderie that had come between them. It was a pleasant change from the cool distance that had soured their time together and Eames was actually enjoying someone else’s presence for a chance, even if no one was doing any talking.

“Eames,” Arthur started, hesitating when Eames moved around the counter so they were both on the same side.

“Yes?” he prompted, setting his mug on the bench so he could easily rest against it without fear of spilling his drink.

“That day in the bathroom—”

“Arthur, don’t. It’s alright.” Eames reached out a hand, brushing his fingers against Arthur’s to stop him from spilling his secrets. “It’s really alright.” He hoped he managed to convey just how alright he was with what had happened in the bathroom. Well, not quite every bit of that but enough that Arthur would stop fretting over the whole situation. Eames didn’t want to be the cause of any further issues for Arthur.

“I know you saw.”

Eames stilled his hand, nudging just a little closer to Arthur. “Yes,” he admitted, gaze finally locking with Arthur’s.

“You should know—”

“Darling, I don’t know how to say it any plainer. It is perfectly alright. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

“Eames…”

The moment was there. Eames could feel it. If he just leaned forward and pressed his lips to Arthur’s, there’d be no stopping it. Arthur would accept the kiss, Eames could tell from the way his eyes kept flicking to Eames’ mouth.

He leaned forward, just a tiny fraction, his heart pounding a heavy beat against his rib cage.

He could almost feel the warmth radiating off Arthur, drawing him nearer with every breath.

A shrill beeping broke the spell, jolting Eames back from Arthur.

“What the—?” he blinked, glancing around the room before he realised it was the oven making the horrendous noise. The brownie was done. “I should…” Eames mumbled awkwardly and moved to the oven, ignoring the feeling of Arthur boring a hole into the back of his head. He couldn’t believe he’d almost kissed his head of security. He couldn’t believe he’d almost been entirely reckless.

“I should go,” Arthur said, saving Eames from having to come up with a pathetic excuse for why he had to leave.

But, as he watched Arthur leave, Eames couldn’t stop himself from feeling that a door had just slammed in his face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roughly edited by yours truly. So, I apologise for any mistakes!  
> Things are finally happening.

Eames was nervous about seeing Arthur. After the previous night, he wasn’t sure how they were supposed to act around one another. Was he supposed to pretend that nothing had happened? That there wasn’t a rising tension electrifying the air every time they were in the room together? It was maddening, being so close to something he wanted and being unable to act upon it.

What he really wanted was to see how Arthur acted so he would have an idea about what was expected from him. If Arthur didn’t bring it up, then Eames wouldn’t either. Maybe it was cowardly, but Eames couldn’t bring himself to care. For once, he wanted someone else to make the decisions. It didn’t seem like much to ask, but the moment Eames stepped into the meeting room, Arthur walked out, muttering something to Mal about needing to go check the security measures for the Japanese ambassador’s visit to Downing Street.

It wasn’t an outright answer, but Eames supposed he had gotten one. All he had to do was pretend that nothing had happened. Surely it was going to be that hard.

—

“Dom is perfectly capable of dealing with any extra security you might need,” Mal said, her tone hinting ever so slightly at being hurt.

As much as Eames wanted to spare his friend’s feelings, he couldn’t help himself. He had a head of security for a reason. It made more sense for Arthur to actually handle briefing Eames rather than Dom, especially since it was Arthur that had created the security plan. Well, both Arthur and Eames had come up with it. They’d spent days sending a slew of emails back and forth before Eames had come to the conclusion that the only course of action to get Arthur on his side was to use Pepper as a bribe. It had worked.

But now Arthur was nowhere to be found and it was irritating. Eames still had a desire to figure out where they stood but without an Arthur to actually talk to, Eames felt as though he was on the back foot. Normally, he wouldn’t let a problem sit for so long but it appeared he had no other choice.

“While I have absolute faith in your husband, ma petite puce, he is not my head of security.” Eames really couldn’t see why it needed to be said, but once the words had tumbled from his lips, he had the strange sensation that it hadn’t been the wisest choice.

“Well, this is the way it is. Arthur said you could take it or leave it, he had other things to attend to.”

“Fine,” Eames huffed, deciding the conversation was over. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he was stuck with Dom for the evening. At least, Eames hoped it was only the one evening.

Dom grated on his nerves, his unending squint was amusing for the first half hour but after that, Eames was always ready to punch his face into a different shape. He was pretty confident that Mal wouldn’t appreciate that. It was part of the reason why he was trying to find Arthur and get him back to guarding Eames. Apparently, it wasn’t in the cards, though. Arthur was far too busy even though Eames was fairly certain his only job was the head of Eames’ security. Surely, guarding Eames’ actual body was top of the list of his duties.

“It’s just this evening, Eamesie,” Mal said, patting his arm as she passed him. “You’ll get your chance to annoy Arthur again soon.”

Eames sighed, slouching in his chair, trying to remember the last time he’d actually cared where an employee of his was.

—

The first thing he heard when he breezed through the foyer—Pepper tugging at her leash in a desperate attempt to get outside—was that Arthur was sick, taken down by the shitty English weather. Eames contemplated going back upstairs, purely so he could make sure Arthur was alright of course, but Mal saw him before he got the chance to make an about-turn. He swore that woman had eyes in the back of her head.

“Prime Minister,” she said, her tone oddly formal, instantly setting Eames on edge.

From what he could remember, there were no official meetings on the schedule and nothing had blown up—at least when he’d checked at five that morning nothing had. He could never keep up with the news.

“There’s been a threat, we are in lockdown.”

“What kind of threat? Shouldn’t Arthur be here? It can’t be that serious if my head of security isn’t even down here taking care of it,” Eames said as matter-of-factly as he could. It made sense to him. What threat could be bad enough to keep him inside but not actually bad enough to warrant his head of security rousing himself from his sick bed?

“Nothing we can’t take care of, sir,” Dom said, appearing beside Eames in an extremely disconcerting way.

Eames barely repressed the urge to jump, trying to remain in control of his irrational dislike of the man and clearly failing miserably if Mal’s scowl was anything to go by.

“Fine. I’m going back to bed then,” Eames muttered, tugging on Pepper’s lead to take her back upstairs with him.

Thankfully, no one tried to stop him from retreating to the sanctuary of his private space.

He made it to the top of the stairs when he spotted a dark head disappearing into the private gym. Eames’ curiosity got the better of him and he peeked his head around the door, blanching at the sight of Arthur setting himself up on the treadmill.

“Should you be doing that?” The question popped out before Eames could stop it, concern for Arthur’s wellbeing overriding any other thought.

Arthur stumbled, shooting a glance over his shoulder before frowning at Eames. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

Arthur hummed and jumped onto the treadmill, clearly indicating that the conversation was over.

As Eames walked to his bedroom, he thought of what he had heard downstairs. He distinctly remembered that words “Arthur” and “sick” in the same sentence. But Arthur was in the gym, working up a sweat and looked as healthy as the first day he’d arrived.

The only conclusion Eames could come up with was that Arthur was avoiding him.

—

Eames couldn’t sleep. Again.

He wasn’t sure if there was a correlation to the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about _why_ Arthur would be avoiding him or not. But as it was, he couldn’t sleep and there was one thing he did when he couldn’t sleep.

Someone was already in the kitchen, though.

Clanging sounds filtered through the door and Eames was curious. No one else ever used the kitchen in the middle of the night. He pushed the door open, gaze landing on the culprits back. Even facing away from him, Eames could tell it was Arthur. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was Arthur. He tried to tell himself it was because Arthur stood in front of him whenever they were at press conferences, but even he didn’t believe it entirely.

He didn’t say anything, just stood at the door, admiring the way Arthur moved effortlessly as he made himself a drink. Using his deductive abilities, Eames figured that Arthur was making a cocoa but using Eames’ method.

His heart clenched and his grip on the door slipped, sending it crashing into him with a ridiculous thud.

Arthur turned around, gaze connecting with Eames’, and moved the pot off the heat before leaving the kitchen as fast as he could. He had to push past Eames, their bodies touching for a fraction of a second, and Arthur was gone before Eames could say a word.

Now he had undeniable proof that Arthur was avoiding him, though.

If only he knew what to do about it.

—

Pepper was driving him balmy.

There weren’t enough hours in the day to actually fit in walking her and since Arthur was apparently doing his best to avoid Eames at all costs, the poor puppy had been relegated to running amok in Eames’ bedroom.

As much as Eames wanted to take her to a walk, they were stuck inside. The threat had passed without mention but it was absolutely pissing down and there was no way Eames was going out in the downpour just to make Pepper happy.

His solution was to take her to the gym and pop her on the treadmill.

It was the perfect plan, right until he actually walked into the gym and found Arthur doing pull-ups with no shirt on. He was facing away from the door and the glorious expanse of his back was on full view for Eames. The muscles shifting as Arthur pulled himself up and slowly lowered himself down was hypnotising and Eames couldn’t tear his gaze away. Not that he really wanted to. It was the first time he had seen Arthur in any state of undress and, while he had been captivated by the hint of lace, this vision before him was more than he could have asked for.

Eames couldn’t stop watching, mesmerised by the muscles and the way Arthur’s hair was curling at the base of his neck. Instead of walking over and twining those curls around his fingers, Eames gripped Pepper tighter, causing her to wiggle and bark.

Arthur looked over his shoulder and dropped to the ground, muttering under his breath.

Eames set Pepper down with just enough time to catch Arthur in the chest before he could walk out. Eames flattened his hand, savouring the warm solidity as he pushed and walked Arthur backwards until they finally met a wall.

Arthur opened his mouth, some sort of protest ready to cut Eames, but no words came. Under his hand, Eames could feel Arthur’s heart pounding. There was a part of his mind telling him he shouldn’t have been there, shouldn’t be pressed so close to Arthur he could feel the warmth from every part of his body. But the only thing Eames could think was that he should have taken his chance in the kitchen.

“Eames…”

Every ounce of willpower Eames had flown out the window with Arthur’s tone and he could have stopped himself even if he wanted to. Eames closed the whisper of space between them and pressed his lips to Arthur’s. There was an edge of desperation, mostly from him, but the second their lips collided, Arthur gripped Eames, pulling him closer.

Eames was more than happy to comply, groaning when he felt Arthur’s hardness pressing against him.

“Fuck me,” Arthur muttered, breaking the kiss with a harsh gulp.

“With pleasure, Darling,” Eames purred before licking his way into Arthur’s mouth. Now that he’d started kissing the gorgeous man, Eames didn’t want to stop. But he couldn’t ignore the not so gentle nudges of something at his feet. “Son of a—” he sighed, looking down at the traitorous puppy that was desperately trying to get their attention.

“I should probably—”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Eames pressed his hips against Arthur, savouring the way his breath caught. “You cannot keep ignoring me.”

“I haven’t been… Oh fine. Maybe I have been. But it was—I couldn’t…” he stuttered, eyes fluttering shut as Eames trailed his fingers along the top of his waistband.

“Darling,” Eames whispered into his ear, “if you really don’t want this, I’ll stop. Scout’s honour. Otherwise, come to my bedroom tonight. There’s a few things I’d like to talk to you about.” Eames stepped away, fighting against the urge to cover Arthur with his own body.

He left the gym, Pepper trailing behind him, as he tried to forget the image of Arthur heaving against the wall, a wet path that had nothing to do with sweat forming at the front of his shorts.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooooooooooo over looking at this chapter.  
> I hope you don't hate me too much but just remember, there will be fun times coming up soon!

Eames couldn’t figure out how long he should wait before he gave up on Arthur. It was already past midnight and there wasn’t a single sign that he was going to take Eames up on his offer. The way Arthur had looked in the gym… Eames had been sure that Arthur had felt the exact same way Eames had, but apparently Eames had been wrong.

As the minutes ticked by, and Pepper’s soft snores filled the room, Eames gave up hope. If Arthur had intended to come to his bedroom, he would have done it by now. Really, Eames could only hope that Arthur had been held up by some important thing, but Eames knew that he would have been informed of anything that big as well.

Arthur wasn’t coming.

But that didn’t mean that Eames had to miss out entirely.

Deciding that he really didn’t want an audience if Pepper woke up, Eames slid off the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He had been interrupted in the shower one too many times to risk giving anyone the opportunity ever again. Eames needed to relieve some tension and he needed to be sure he was alone to enjoy it properly. Not that he was going to enjoy it… Arthur had essentially stood him up and Eames already knew it was going to be a release just for the sake of doing it.

If only Arthur had come to him.

Eames sighed and climbed into the shower, the tension seeping from his body with the warmth of the water as it pounded against his shoulders. If it wasn’t for his traitorous mind not so helpfully replaying what had happened in the gym, Eames would have been more than happy to just spend twenty minutes under the spray and call it a night. But his body was insistent. The memory of Arthur, pupils blown wide and panting heavily as he used the wall to hold himself up, plagued Eames. He couldn’t get rid of the image, not that he was trying particularly hard.

He ran a hand down his body, leaning against the wall as he finally took himself in hand.

Eames let his mind wander as he slowly stroked himself, imagining Arthur joining him in the shower, kneeling, water pushing his delicious curls into his face, droplets catching on his eyelashes as he peeked up at Eames, tentatively licking from base to tip.

Eames groaned, gripping himself tight as he came embarrassingly fast.

If anyone else was in the shower with him, Eames would have apologised for getting to the finish line so quickly, but seeing how it was just him, Eames washed away any evidence of what he’d done and cleaned himself before settling into bed naked and not feeling any less sated.

—

One hour. That’s really all Eames wanted, just one more hour to sleep and pretend that everything was perfectly fine and he hadn’t propositioned the head of his security and been turned down. Well… Eames had to concede that Arthur hadn’t  _ actually _ turned him down. That would have required actual words but it was close enough. He figured if he had another hour to ‘sleep’, Eames would be able to face Arthur and get on with actually doing his job.

Mal had other ideas.

“Ma petite puce, if you open one more curtain, I will fire you,” Eames threatened as he burrowed beneath his pillows, preferring the hot huffs of his own breath to the torturous sunlight Mal was allowing into his sanctuary.

“I would like to see you try,” she replied far too cheerily for Eames’ liking as she tugged on the final curtain, sunlight streaming directly onto his face.

“I hate you,” he muttered.

“And I love you too, Eamesie. Now up you get, you have a meeting with Saito at nine.” Mal tugged the blankets off, throwing them to the floor and exposing Eames to the chill of the air from the window she had just opened.

“You devil woman,” Eames growled as he rolled out of bed and stalked to the bathroom, Pepper hot on his heels. “You had better not turn on me as well.” Eames pointed at the chocolate puppy, trying to ignore the way she was looking up at him, tongue lolling out of her mouth in the most unfairly adorable way.

Eames sighed and knelt on the floor, scratching her ears. “Who am I kidding? Even if you turned on me, I’d still love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Just don’t throw me over for our Darling, I might never come back from that.”

Eames climbed into the shower, sighing into the warmth and wishing he could hide in his bedroom for the entire day. After the less than exciting end to his evening before, Eames had no desire to face Arthur. He wanted a few more days to collect himself. Maybe even find somewhere else for Arthur to work. Mal would have connections or, at the very least, Dom would have leads on a better position. Eames would be sad to see Arthur go, but he knew it would be better for the both of them in the long run. Who in their right mind wanted to stay near Eames when things were going to be incredibly uncomfortable?

He kept the shower brief, not lingering despite how much he ached to remember Arthur in the gym. He wasn’t willing to give himself the opportunity to dwell on something that was never going to happen.

To soothe his wounded ego, Eames decided on his newest suit. The rich plum colour had been chosen by him specifically but the small diamond pattern was the tailor’s idea and, seeing it on, Eames was ecstatic. He looked good. Almost delectable, if he was a total narcissist. Part of him hoped Arthur thought the same.

Eames grabbed his tie clip, sliding it into place as he left his bedroom. Mal had tried to talk him out of the snake, but Eames loved the little critters. Mal had said the public would think it was showing his sneaky, untrustworthy behaviour. But Eames had seen the tweets—the public  _ loved _ his snake accessories nearly as much as he did.

“So glad you could join us,” Mal drawled as Eames descended the stairs, straightening his jacket and trying not to roll his eyes at Dom standing just to her side. Arthur was nowhere to be seen and Eames’ heart sank.

That was the end of that.

“I do have a job to do,” Eames said, ignoring her retorts in favour of exiting through the front door and climbing into the black Sedan.

“Good morning, Prime Minister,” Arthur said, calm and without turning around to look at Eames.

Eames hummed and pulled his phone out, choosing to scroll through his photos of Pepper rather than stare at Arthur’s perfectly gelled hair or his immaculately pressed suit or inhale just that little bit deeper just to savour Arthur’s scent.

—

“I wish these meetings could last longer,” Eames sighed as he stood, buttoning his jacket.

“As do I, Mr Eames,” Saito replied, clasping a hand on Eames’ shoulder to stop him from moving. “You look… tired.”

Eames shot Saito a look, hoping that it conveyed that he really didn’t appreciate being told he looked like shit. After the night he’d had, Eames didn’t want to be reminded that he had spent hours waiting for a man that hadn’t even bothered to say no to him. It was a bit of a sore spot that he was trying to ignore. But he was failing miserably. Arthur was on the other side of the door and was impossible to forget about.

“You’re going to Japan next week.”

Eames nodded. It had been organised for months and was the main reason for Eames being at Saito’s office that morning. There were minor details he wanted to bang out and Saito was the easiest man to deal with. It helped that they were friends and Saito had been teaching Eames Japanese for the better part of their relationship.

“You will have a few days rest?”

“As long Mal’s scheduled some.” Eames wasn’t holding his breath for getting any downtime during the trip to Japan. They were trying to secure a better relationship with the Japanese and Eames was pretty confident that Mal would have booked him solid for the entire two weeks. She had a terrible habit of doing that.

“Go here,” Saito said, pulling a business card covered in cherry blossoms and loopy script.

“Komorebi-yu?” Eames asked, running a finger along the edge. A bathhouse certainly sounded enticing. He’d heard good things and the chance to just sit and soak seemed like the best thing for him. It might give him the chance to think some things through.

“They are very discreet.”

Eames coughed, choking on an inhale. “Excuse me?” While Eames had never been in the closet, he wasn’t exactly running around and screaming his sexual preferences to anyone that might be willing to listen.

“Privacy, Mr Eames,” Saito said, slapping Eames on the back and laughing as though he had just made the joke of the century.

Eames laughed, a tiny little thing, not wanting Saito to realise that Eames had been thinking something entirely inappropriate. “I’ll get Mal on that right away and I’ll see you after the trip.”

Eames didn’t want for more than a nod and a smile from Saito before heading down to the Sedan, Arthur trailing a few steps behind. Eames tried not to think about how Arthur might have been admiring the view. Of course, he failed miserably at it.

Once they were in the car and finally moving to the next meeting, Eames sent a message to Mal with the details of the onsen and explaining that she had to make time for him to go there.

When they were pulling up outside Westminster, Eames got a reply from Mal saying it was all done.

Eames went through the rest of the day lighter and happier than he had started it; the promise of a relaxing trip to a spa tiding him over through the many hours of listening to Mr Charles drone on about some new complaint he had come up with.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, you can blame me for this, obviously, but just trust me, okay?  
> Also, thank you so much renn for your help in deciding on how to end this chapter.  
> You lot should know not to leave us alone together.

Meetings. Galas. Dinners. Events of all sorts were coming out Eames’ ears and he was bored stiff. On one hand, he was being kept busy which meant he didn’t have time to dwell on any head of security people that might have joined him on his trip. But on the other hand, it meant that he was quickly running out of time to actually make it to Saito’s onsen and that was starting to hurt. He needed some time to decompress, to just relax and not be the prime minister for all of half an hour.

It didn’t seem like too much to ask but in the grand scheme of things, apparently it was.

They were nearing the end of the trip and Mal had had to reschedule his appointment at the onsen three times already. Eames wasn’t holding his breath to actually make it there.

“Eamesie, do you trust me?”

“Implicitly,” Eames sighed into the phone from his position on the bed. It was early in the morning in Tokyo but late for Mal back home in London. He had never been more grateful that she always answered his calls.

“Then have faith, mon chou, you will get to see the inside of Saito’s lovely onsen.”

Eames hummed, not wanting to get his hopes up. He already had been too excited. That may have been what jinxed him in the first place. The overjoyed thought of spending a whole day at a spa had clearly meant that he was never going to get it. That was just his luck. Whatever Eames wanted, he didn’t get.

“You owe me.”

“I love you too, Eamesie. If you have any other problems, let me know.”

“Mal…” Eames bit back the rest of the sentence, not sure if he should follow through with his idea to find Arthur somewhere else to work. It was tempting to get rid of the problem but he was worried that just made him weak. If Arthur was gone, it might just make Eames pine for him more, though.

“Yes?” Mal asked, suddenly sounding more awake than she had been at the beginning of their conversation.

Eames hesitated, the words on the tip of his tongue, ready to come rushing out, but he couldn’t say them.

“Eames, are you still there?”

“Of course,” he said with a smile even though she couldn’t see him.

“You need to tell me something?”

The opportunity was staring him in the face, screaming at him to solve the problem. Arthur didn’t want him. It was only going to be a mercy for the both of them to find Arthur work elsewhere.

“Nothing at all,” Eames said, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. “Sleep well.” He hung up and stood, selecting his outfit for the day. He was going to have to spend another day with Arthur looking impeccably dressed and primped, so he figured he might as well do the same.

—

Apparently his charcoal grey suit and white button-up without a tie was a bad decision. Mal had finally pulled through and found time in his schedule to get him to the onsen.

It was even more beautiful than Eames had imagined it would be. The small amount of research he’d done before he’d left London had given him a general idea of what to expect but apparently Saito didn’t do anything by halves.

“Ohayo gozaimasu.”

Eames tipped his head, responding in kind. He was just excited to actually be stepping foot in a place that was already making him feel calm in a way he hadn’t since before Arthur had started working for him.

He followed the small ladies in their cherry blossom kimonos through the onsen, eyeing the signs that pointed towards the baths longingly and wondering where in the world they were taking him. If Saito had sent him to a place to be murdered, he had certainly gone through a lot of effort for it.

Their walk was short but entirely fruitful. When they directed Eames through a sliding door, they left him alone with Dom and Arthur, the three of them staring at the solo tub.

“We’ll be out here,” Arthur said, impassive as he turned his back, taking guard of one side of the door and Dom taking guard of the other.

Eames sighed and tried not let it show that his heart had just sunk that little bit further. “Very good,” he said and stepped through the door, sliding it shut behind him.

The second the door was closed, he took a deep breath, resisting the urge to press his head against the cool inviting wood. Soothing music settled under his skin, chimes and the rush of wind settling his worried soul.

Eames turned from the door and unbuttoned his jacket, grateful that he had forgone the tie that morning. He stripped his clothes, placing them on the bench next to the shower before rinsing off quickly. He’d been to an onsen before and knew the rules but that was before he’d been tattooed. Now he was going to owe Saito a special something for letting him enjoy this beautiful place.

Eames climbed into the tub, sighing and relaxing into the warm water. It had been months, possibly even years since he’d had the pleasure of unwinding at all. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get out when the time came.

He fiddled with the buttons next to the tub, pressing one and making the roof retract.

Eames’ breath caught. The view revealing in front of him was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. On the ride there, Eames hadn’t even realised where they were but seeing the expanse of green and pink before him, tugged at his heart. It was more beautiful than anything he had seen in his life.

He was never going to be able to repay Saito.

Eames settled back, resting his head against the edge of the tub and staring at the vista. With the music and the pretty picture, all of Eames’ worries seemed smaller in comparison. Even if Arthur never wanted him, somehow it didn’t matter in the face of what he was experiencing right at that moment. Peace and serenity was worth every ounce of sexual frustration he had felt.

“Sir,” someone said, disturbing Eames’ peace and quiet and making him stand, turning to face his intruder.

“Oh shit, I-I’m sorry,” Arthur mumbled quickly, turning his back to Eames.

“Darling,” Eames sighed, his heart pounding. “Is there a problem?”

“Um… Sir—”

“Eames.”

“There’s been an emergency—”

“What do I need to do?”

“No, not like that,” Arthur recovered quickly, gaining some of his composure back. “Dom has gone back to the hotel to take care of it. Nothing to worry about.”

“So… It’s just…”

“You and me, yes.”

That was a turn of events Eames had never expected. He could still feel the tension between them and he was positive he wasn’t imagining it. That had to be the reason why Arthur couldn’t even look him in the face at the moment. Though, Eames had to assume that the fact that he was starkers really wasn’t helping matters at all.

Then again…

Eames climbed out of the tub, aware of the water sloshing, alerting Arthur to Eames’ movement but he didn’t even twitch.

That had to be a good sign.

Eames tread slowly towards Arthur, stopping a few steps away. “Arthur…”

“Please.”

“I think we need to have a talk,” Eames said with confidence he wasn’t feeling. He was petrified he was actually going to get rejected face to face but he had to know. He had to find out if there was something or nothing between them.

“Prime Minister, that’s not a good idea.”

“So you don’t feel as though we have anything we could possibly chat about?”

Arthur seemed to stiffen, his shoulders twitching with the force of holding himself so still. “I can’t think of anything, no.”

“That night in the gym—”

“Shouldn’t have happened.”

Eames deflated, the confident winds that had been blowing his sails dying instantly with Arthur’s words. “So that’s why you didn’t..?”

“It would’ve been inappropriate,” Arthur whispered, his voice so quiet Eames had to lean in to hear it.

“Darling,” Eames said just as softly, taking a half-step forward.

Arthur shivered, visibly so. Despite the words he was saying, Arthur was clearly just as affected by what was between them.

“What do you want?” Eames wanted to know, wanted to hear the words come from Arthur’s lips. Whether or not it was a rejection, Eames  _ wanted _ to have confirmation. The not knowing was worse than any refusal could ever be.

Silence settled heavily in the room, overwhelming the chimes that seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“What do you want?” Eames repeated, the silence from Arthur unbearable.

Arthur’s fingers tapped against his legs but still, there wasn’t an answer. No words filled the air alongside the chimes, no admissions, no rejections.

“What do you wan—?”

“You,” Arthur yelled, turning and finally facing Eames. “I want you, alright? Are you happy now? You’ve finally gotten what you want? I want you so badly I can’t sleep at night. I want you so badly I can’t even look at you without aching. I am jealous of every person that gets to touch you because they can do it without feeling as though they’re being electrocuted every single goddamn time. I am jealous of every person you casually flirt with. I’m jealous whenever you smile at someone that isn’t me.” Arthur took a shuddering breath and deflated, his shoulders sagging, mouth turning down. “Eames… I want you.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dedicating this chapter to oceaxe, fiamac, and swtalmnd because they totally requested this form of torture for Arthur.
> 
> Special thanks go to oceaxe for betaing this chapter for me. You are the absolute best!  
> Also, I updated the tags because I realised that 11 chapters in before getting to the good stuff probably meant it was a slow burn.

_ “I want you.” _

The words rattled in Eames’ head, bouncing around until they consumed him. Those three words kept him standing when all he wanted was to crush Arthur into the wall until he wasn’t sure where either of them stopped or began.

“Say something,” Arthur whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of Eames’ silence.

“Darling…” Eames swallowed hard, eyes widening as he watched a ripple of relief flash across Arthur’s face. Words caught in his throat, nothing seeming as though it could stand up to Arthur’s admission. How was he supposed to confess the exact same thing when he had absolutely no eloquence left in him?

Instead of using pitiful words, Eames leaned forward, locking eyes with Arthur until their lips pressed together, soft and gentle. Despite the tentative quality of the kiss, every nerve in Eames’ body was on fire, his skin tingling, burning with a sudden and overwhelming desire. Just kissing Arthur wasn’t enough.

Eames broke the kiss, ecstatic when Arthur’s eyes opened slowly, blinking as though he was underwater. He dropped to his knees, eyes still locked on Arthur’s as he reached out and undid his trousers. What he really wanted was to tear Arthur apart, make him lose control, and the first step was to finally see Arthur in all his glory. Unfortunately, they were still in the onsen and while Eames was entirely sure Saito knew his employees would be discreet if they were caught, he wasn’t going to risk that. Eames just wanted to have a quick taste, to satiate the desire coursing through his body like fire and ice at the same time.

As Eames exposed his body, Arthur bit into his lower lip, fingers clenching at his sides in an obvious attempt to not reach out and touch.

That wasn’t going to do.

Eames dropped his gaze from Arthur’s face to take in the sight before him: Arthur’s fly undone, straining erection peeking out and daring Eames to take what he wanted.

“Last chance,” Eames whispered, hoping desperately that Arthur wasn’t going to suddenly change his mind, but he needed clarity.

“I don’t take any of it back,” Arthur said, his voice far too composed for the current situation.

Eames smiled, leaning forward and licking a stripe along the underside of Arthur’s dick. He might have taken far too much pleasure in the way it twitched and the harsh intake of breath, but it spurred him on and Eames took the head in his mouth.

It didn’t take long for Arthur to grab onto Eames’ head, holding on as though he was afraid Eames might change his mind. But Eames had gotten a taste of the devastating man and he was never going to let that go.

He hollowed his cheeks and looked up at Arthur only to find him staring, mouth open, pupils blown wide.

“Eames… I’m…”

Eames pulled off, tutting and standing. He enjoyed Arthur’s pained expression far too much to feel sorry for not letting Arthur finish.

“Are you serious?” Arthur asked, voice too breathless for Eames to take his anger seriously.

“Deadly, Darling.” Eames stepped backwards, finding it difficult to force space between them when he’d been actively wishing for this for months. Not to mention the aching erection he was sporting. But he had plans, ideas he’d been cultivating since the day they’d met, and they didn’t involve Arthur blowing his load far too early in the day.

“I already told you—”

“I remember quite clearly what you told me. My memory isn’t that bad,” he countered as he dried himself off and started to dress.

“Then why?”

“Arthur,” Eames said, pulling his trousers up, leaving them hanging as he slipped his shirt on. “I have been waiting months for this. A quick blowjob in a bathhouse isn’t what I had in mind for our first time.” He buttoned up his shirt, tucking the ends into trousers and grabbing his jacket. “You might want to zip up your fly before we head out. Saito’s people are discreet but I’d rather no one else got to see that.”

Arthur scrambled to do up his fly, stumbling as he followed Eames out of the onsen.

“Plus, I have a dinner to get to.”

—

Because Dom had already returned to the hotel, that left the backseat with an extra space. Since the disaster in the gym, Arthur had taken to sitting in the front but Eames wasn’t happy with that arrangement, not when he was still sporting a semi.

“After you,” Eames said, ushering Arthur into the back before he had a chance to try and take the front.

Arthur frowned, brows drawing together but he slid into the car without an argument. If he was that good at following instructions, the evening was going to go much smoother than Eames could ever have anticipated.

Actually, the whole day had turned on its head and it was going far better than he had dreamed it would. He had figured he was going to collapse into bed, order room service, and watch a terrible movie while he tried not to think about the head of his security in the next room over. Now, though… Now he had to sit through a dinner and pretend that he actually wanted to be there instead of torturing Arthur until he burst.

“Hakushu please, Peters,” Eames said, settling back in the seat.

He waited until they were moving before bridging the gap between him and Arthur. Eames had absolute faith that Peters—a driver in Saito’s employee—had enough sense to keep his eyes forward for the entire duration of the drive.

Eames shifted in his seat, angling himself so he wouldn’t have to lean so far to wriggle his fingers onto Arthur’s thigh. He took a smug satisfaction in the way Arthur’s leg twitched at the contact, pressing his palm flat against that firm muscle.

“What are you doing?” Arthur whispered, eyes darting to the driver.

Eames flashed his public smile—the one he gave to show just how trustworthy he was, the one that had won him the election—and squeezed Arthur’s thigh. He had no plan on rushing anything.

They drove three blocks before Arthur calmed, adjusting to the weight of Eames’ hand on his leg. Eames felt the way Arthur’s muscles relaxed, his legs spreading a little as he sank into the seat.

Little by little, Eames teased his way up Arthur’s thigh, making sure it was slow and steady, halting the travel each time he felt Arthur tense up.

By the time they were halfway to the restaurant, Eames knew Arthur was hard in his pants, fists clenched as he fought to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.

Eames winked at Arthur before looking out the window at the same moment he traced the outline of Arthur’s erection.

Arthur jolted, pressing into the door in a desperate attempt to get away from Eames’ hand. “Are you  _ serious _ ?” he hissed as Eames gripped Arthur’s thigh, tugging on it until he relented and settled back into the seat. Sadly, though, his muscles were still bunched and Eames wasn’t having any of that. He wanted Arthur to enjoy every moment of their time together and Eames couldn’t exactly drop to his knees in the back of the car so he did the next best thing.

Eames shifted to the centre, letting his thigh press against Arthur’s. He noticed Peters’ eyes flick to the rearview mirror briefly and wondered if he was going to have to have a little chat to make sure that nothing about this car ride got out. He was definitely going to owe Saito once he was back home.

“Can you be quiet, Darling?” Eames whispered, sliding his hand higher until he was cupping Arthur through his trousers.

Arthur bit into his lip, gripping the door handle until his knuckles turned white. “I wouldn’t have to be quiet if you went back to your side,” he mumbled, trying hard not to shift against Eames’ hand.

Eames ran a finger along the zip, pressing just a little, eliciting the most delicious hiss from Arthur. It was the most adventurous thing Eames had done since before he’d gotten into politics and he was thoroughly enjoying fondling Arthur, pressing his palm firmly against the bulge he’d previously had his lips wrapped around. Eames was already looking forward to getting Arthur underneath him and finally wringing sounds from him. Though at the moment, Eames was thoroughly enjoying teasing Arthur, finding out how far Arthur would let Eames push before he fought back. Eames wondered if Arthur would all but let Eames fuck him in the back seat. The thought itself was almost as enticing as the light sheen of sweat Eames could spy just above Arthur’s collar.

Arthur moaned, the softest of noises, spreading his legs further as Eames ran his hand over Arthur’s crotch, pressing his fingers dangerously low. “Eames, I’m going t—”

“We’re here, sir,” Peters’ said, his eyes still trained forward.

Well, there went all of Eames’ plans to get Arthur off and make him sit through an awkward dinner with drying come in his pants.

Eames was grateful for the obvious discretion and made a mental note to send him a little bonus once Eames was back home. “Thank you,” he said and climbed out of the car, pleased to find Arthur clambering after him.

“That’s twice now,” Arthur hissed as he adjusted his jacket, trying vainly to cover the impressive bulge in his trousers.

“Don’t worry, Darling. I’m nothing if not a man of my word.” Eames winked at Arthur and walked into the restaurant, jovially greeting  Shinzō Abe, the Japanese prime minister.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to note:  
> 1\. oceaxe is the most wonderful person in the world and I seriously owe them for betaing this chapter. Absolute blessing, I swear.  
> 2\. I have changed the rating of the fic from Mature to Explicit purely because of this chapter. Things get a little... heated, shall we say?  
> 3\. Fia, I hope I have delivered what you asked for.  
> 4\. I hope this chapter lives up to the hype I've been creating for 12 chapters.

In Eames’ opinion, the dinner lasted far too long. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on building international relationships when Arthur was standing a few feet away, looking just a little rumpled and a lot put out. It took all of his restraint not to just up and walk out of the restaurant but Eames managed.

Barely.

“You realise they’ll notice if you’re in here too long,” Arthur panted as Eames kissed at his collarbone, nipping at the smooth flesh he’d uncovered seconds after Arthur had followed him into the bathroom.

“Of course,” Eames hummed, sucking a bruise into the tender flesh and drawing a muffled moan. “I’m nearly finished.” He licked at the small red spot before kissing his way up Arthur’s divine neck, savouring each tiny shiver that wracked his body as he clung to Eames, rutting against the thigh pressed between his legs.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to—” Arthur groaned as Eames stepped away, hands reaching for Eames, trying to pull him back.

“Oh,” Eames tutted, stepping towards the mirror and patting his hair down. It was a right mess, thanks to Arthur. He hoped no one else noticed how dishevelled he looked after his trip to the bathroom. There was no logical excuse for it, and Eames really wasn’t in the mood to go telling people that he’d just snogged the head of his security to an almost-orgasm.

“That’s three,” Arthur sighed petulantly, still leaning against the wall as though it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“If you can still count, I’m clearly not as good as I remember,” Eames said with a wink and gestured for Arthur to lead the way out. He was still the head of Eames’ security, after all.

“I really hate you.”

“Don’t lie, Darling, it’s so unbecoming.”

—

Back at the hotel, Eames had Arthur pressed up against the wall before the door had fully closed, their jackets pooled on the floor. The entire dinner, Eames had spent the lulls in conversation imagining all the ways he was going to take Arthur apart, but now that they were in the moment, Arthur’s firm body pressed against his, Eames couldn’t think of anything more elaborate than getting Arthur naked and underneath him.

His whole plan of teasing Arthur until he burst was quickly flying out the window in favour of getting off as fast as possible.

“Eames,” Arthur whined, fingers twisting in Eames’ shirt.

Eames pulled Arthur flush against him, spinning them around and walking Arthur towards the bed. It was difficult, their legs colliding with every step, but Arthur wouldn’t let go of him and Eames didn’t mind. He found that it was nearly impossible for him to let go of Arthur as well. After months of wanting, Eames planned on holding on for dear life. He wasn’t willing to accept the idea that after this evening was over, Arthur might force them to go back to the way things were before.

Eames pushed the depressing thoughts to the back of his mind and gently pushed Arthur so that he toppled backwards, landing with a soft thump on the bed.

Arthur rested on his elbows, looking at Eames through his lashes, biting into his lower lip as Eames knelt and ran his hands down Arthur’s legs to his shoes. Eames wanted to take his time undressing Arthur, unwrapping him layer by layer until he got down to bare skin. Part of him was excited, anticipating what Arthur might have on underneath his suit when his mind helpfully supplied that Arthur had been wearing fairly mundane pants back in the onsen and there hadn’t been any time for him to change.

Every inch revealed of Arthur's smooth body made it harder not to just rip his clothes off to get a clear view of his whole naked form, but somehow Eames managed to keep himself under control, tossing Arthur’s shoes and socks into a corner and trailed his fingers up the inner seam of Arthur’s trousers.

“You are a goddamn tease,” Arthur muttered, wriggling beneath Eames’ ministrations.

Eames laughed, finally undoing Arthur’s fly. “Darling, I’m not the one that walks around in trousers that leave nothing to the imagination.”

“I’ve never heard you complaining,” Arthur grumbled as he lifted his hips, giving Eames the room to tug his trousers down.

With Arthur’s trousers finally on the floor, Eames stood, resting his hands on his hips and stared down at the beautiful man laid out before him. Plain black pants taunted him and Eames couldn’t decide if he was disappointed by the fact that there was a distinct lack of lace or excited because Arthur was currently on his bed in nothing more than a button-up and black briefs.

“Are you going to do something or just stand there all night?”

“I think I’ve heard quite enough out of you,” Eames growled and grabbed Arthur’s hips, flipping him over, earning Eames a delightful squeal of indignation.

“What are you—?”

Eames flattened himself against Arthur, nipping at his ear before whispering, “No more words unless you’re going to say ‘Yes, Prime Minister’. Understand?”

Arthur nodded, a soft “Yes, Prime Minister” rushing out in a huff of breath.

“Good,” Eames purred and kissed his way down Arthur’s neck, silently regretting that he hadn’t taken Arthur’s shirt off before getting him on the bed. But he had more important things to worry about. There was going to be plenty of time to admire Arthur’s naked body later. At least, so he hoped.

Eames tapped Arthur’s hip to get better access to the briefs that were currently in the way. Arthur complied, wriggling and helping as Eames pulled them off.

Eames sighed, dropping the black briefs before reading out to knead Arthur’s pert arse. It was more amazing than he had ever dreamed of and he had dreamed about it _a lot_. Soft yet firm, and Eames delighted in the little sighs Arthur was making.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, looking for all the world as though he was about to go to sleep. If Eames had been a prideful man, he would have taken offense. As it was, he was unsatisfied with the fact that Arthur wasn’t already writhing beneath him, but that was his own fault. He’d gotten too caught up in caressing that arse.

Before he let himself get distracted any longer, Eames nudged Arthur’s thighs. Arthur shifted without argument, giving Eames the room to settle between his legs. Unable to control himself, Eames bit the right cheek, at which Arthur whacked him on the head.

“You are such a di—” Arthur groaned, cutting off the rest of his insult as Eames spread those perfect cheeks and licked from the balls up, and over his tight little hole.

It had been years since Eames had given anyone a thorough rimming and, from the way Arthur jerked forward as though he wanted to escape Eames’ grasp, he had to assume it had been a while since anyone had gone down on Arthur like this.

Eames pointed his tongue, flicking it over Arthur’s hole, drawing a loud moan and sudden shift as Arthur pressed his hips back. As much as Eames wanted to see how much Arthur would take, he wasn’t willing to cede control. Eames held Arthur down, waggling the tip of his tongue back and forth to loosen Arthur up.

Arthur moaned and sighed, wriggling as he sought more friction. Eames was more than willing to give it to him.

He worked his tongue in, thrusting as far as it would go and drawing louder moans from Arthur. It was better than any dream Eames had had, the noises Arthur was making were enough to fuel Eames’ fantasies for the foreseeable future, but Eames wanted more.

He slowly pressed a finger in, fighting the urge to sigh at the tightness surrounding him.

“Oh fuck,” Arthur groaned, squeezing against the intrusion.

Eames ground his hips into the mattress, seeking some sort of friction for his aching erection. Arthur’s noises were driving him mad and the only thing Eames wanted was to be buried inside of him. He wanted to wring those sounds from Arthur, have him begging for more while Eames pounded—

“Son of a…” Eames muttered, lifting his head as he tried to see how close his suitcase was. In his lust-filled haze, Eames had forgotten that he didn’t have any condoms. He hadn’t had much use for them since he’d met Arthur and hadn’t even contemplated that there would be a possibility he would need them in Japan.

“Eames,” Arthur breathed, “what’s wrong?” He sounded wrecked already and Eames couldn’t stop the grin from spreading. Maybe he was feeling a little chuffed.

“Just stay right there,” Eames said, slowly pulling his finger out and climbing off the bed. He rummaged through his suitcase, letting out a hum of triumph when he found his slightly abused tube of lube. Eames stood, turning around to find Arthur on his back, entirely naked, arms stretched out above his head. Arthur was one long lean line, teasing Eames with his perfection. “You dirty little minx.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” Arthur said, blinking coquettishly up at him.

That wasn’t fair at all.

Eames tossed the tube onto the bed, ignoring the way it bounced in favour of stripping as fast as he possibly could. It didn’t take long before he was kneeling between Arthur’s thighs, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. “I think you’re far too coherent, Darling. How ‘bout I fix that, hmm?” Eames asked, though it was entirely rhetorical.

“Yes, Prime Minister,” Arthur said his breath hitching just a little as Eames slid his hands up Arthur’s thighs.

“I rather like the sound of that,” Eames said, leaning down, lips brushing against Arthur’s as he continued. “You don’t have to be quiet now.”

Arthur groaned, surging up and wrapping his arms around Eames’ shoulders, pulling him down into a deep, wet kiss.

Eames relented, pressing his whole body against Arthur, moaning into his mouth as he realised they were finally naked together. Eames had waited months for this to finally happen and was now revelling in the fact that Arthur wanted him. Arthur needed him, if the way he was rutting against Eames was anything to judge by.

“Fuck me,” Arthur said, breaking the kiss with a moan as Eames gripped his hips, thrusting slowly.

“Would that I could, Darling,” Eames said, kissing his way to Arthur’s ear to nip at it, holding the lobe between his teeth as he worked a hand between them to grip at Arthur’s dick.

“Please,” Arthur whimpered, arching up into Eames’ hand.

“I’ll take care of you,” Eames murmured, kissing and licking down Arthur’s neck to his collarbone, biting and sucking hard as he rubbed his thumb over the head of Arthur’s dick. He was so wet Eames didn’t need the lube that was lying on the bed next to them, mostly forgotten.

Arthur moaned, thrusting into Eames’ hand, hips stuttering in an unsteady rhythm.

Eames shifted his grip, holding both of them in one hand the best he could. Mostly, he was just trying to guide them together as Eames slowly thrust against Arthur, trying desperately not to chase his own orgasm. He wanted Arthur to topple over first. Arthur deserved it, especially since Eames had teased him for almost the entire day.

“Eames, please… please…”

Eames gripped Arthur’s dick and all it took was a few more thrusts before Arthur was spilling over Eames’ hand, clutching at Eames as he came. Eames followed a few seconds later, Arthur moaning his name was enough to tip him over the edge.

When he got his breath back, Eames realised he was crushing Arthur—who somehow wasn’t complaining at what must have been a heavy weight—and rolled off him.

“Wow,” Arthur breathed, the single word somehow slurred and Eames wondered if he was just that good or if Arthur was falling asleep on him.

“Darling,” Eames said, turning onto his side, brushing his clean hand through Arthur’s hair, pushing his sweaty curls out of the way.

Arthur hummed and nuzzled into his hand. At least Eames had his answer.

Eames left Arthur to doze where he was and cleaned the both of them up before climbing onto the bed and pulling as much of the duvet over them both as he could without dislodging Arthur.

“Sweet dreams,” Eames whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Arthur’s forehead before following him down the rabbit hole of sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I'm going anymore but if someone out there does, then can you help me out? Because I'm lost af.
> 
> Also, there was a tragedy IRL that has made thought processes a little more difficult lately so I apologise for any mistakes in this chapter. I tried my best.
> 
> There's minor angst in this chapter but it's brief.  
> Do my notes make sense anymore? Do these chapters?  
> I have the end in sight. I currently have plans for three more but we'll see what happens and if these boys (and life) want to play along.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains Eames had forgotten to close in his lust-filled stupor. He curled away from the offending brightness only to collide with a solid body.

Arthur was still there.

Eames opened an eye, his breath catching at the sight before him: Arthur was on his back, one arm curled beneath his head, strands of hair falling across his forehead making him seem younger. Eames desperately wanted to reach out and brush the hair away, expose every part of that beautiful face to the sun that had woken him, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

His stomach turned, twisting into knots, the sudden overwhelming thought that Arthur would walk out the door and never look back making him ill.

“I can hear you thinking,” Arthur mumbled, startling Eames out of his thoughts.

“Go back to sleep,” Eames replied, not daring to look away just incase it was the last time he ever got to enjoy this view.

Arthur hummed, rolling over and opening his eyes, smiling softly at Eames. “Can’t. I’m awake now.”

Eames’ fingers twitched, the desire to brush those curls to the side much stronger.

“Everything okay?”

“Of course, Darling.”

Arthur raised a brow, annoyingly observant as always. But how could Eames explain to him that the biggest fear eating at him was that Arthur was going to change his mind and regret everything they’d done the night before?

“Okay,” Arthur said, “I get it.” He sat up, brushing his hair out of his face with a quick jerk of his hand. “I should go check on Dom anyway,” he mumbled, climbing out of the bed and searching for his clothes.

There was the answer to his fears.

Eames nodded, at a loss for words. He wanted to reach out and drag Arthur into his arms but he was going to have to get used to not having him all over again. He wished he’d never had a taste. There was no way Eames could continue on as though nothing had ever happened.

Instead of giving in to his urge, Eames rolled over so he wouldn’t have to watch Arthur walk away.

“This is bullshit.”

Eames stiffened, waiting for the door to slam so he could wallow amongst the sheets that smelled like Arthur. But instead of loud noises, the duvet was pulled off and Arthur was wrapping his arms around him, pressing his slightly chilled body against Eames’.

“I’ve spent months resisting you and I can’t do it anymore. Things can’t just go back to the way they were. There’s no way I can do that, alright? So if you don’t want this, you’d better say something now and I’ll hand in my resignation as soon as we’re back in London. But you should know, I don’t regret what happened between us last night. And what I said,” Arthur sighed, pressing his lips to Eames’ shoulder, “I meant every word.”

“You can’t leave,” Eames murmured, rolling over to face Arthur, catching him in his arms. “I want to do this. I want this. I want  _ you _ .” His voice was softer than he had expected, catching slightly with the weight of his words. It had been years since he’d said anything of the sort to anyone. He’d been hurt too many times before but Arthur felt different. What had been building between them felt like something brand new and Eames wasn’t willing to let that slip from his fingers.

Arthur smiled, one cheek pressing into a dimple.

Eames couldn’t resist the urge and rubbed his thumb over it, delighting in the fact that he was allowed to do this. He doubted the novelty would ever wear off. “I was wondering,” he said, slipping his hand from Arthur’s cheek to curl around the base of his neck.

Arthur hummed, signaling for Eames to continue when he’d drifted off, captivated by the softness of Arthur’s hair.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Darling.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Arthur sighed. “Do I need pants for this?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” He braced himself, ready for the wince that was sure to come with his suggestion, but Eames found that he couldn’t actually form the words. They caught in his throat, choking him with the weight of every possible outcome. There was every chance Arthur would turn and walk out the door just like he had that day in the bathroom.

“Would you just spit it out already?”

“I’m trying.”

“For the leader of a country, you aren’t very good at handling diplomatic relationships, are you?” Arthur teased, though there was a tightness to his voice.

“Why do you think I have Mal?” Eames asked, surprised that Arthur hadn’t figured that out already. Mal was the brains behind everything Eames had ever accomplished. Without her, he would never have become prime minister and he certainly would never have cleaned up his act long enough to even consider politics as a career path.

“Should I go and have this conversation with her then?” Arthur asked, a brow raised.

Eames rolled onto his back, sighing, letting out all the air in his lungs as though that was going to make what he had to say any easier.

“Whatever it is, it really can’t be that bad,” Arthur said, his voice low and calm. Clearly he was trying to create a sense of security to make Eames feel comfortable telling him anything.

It was working.

Though, the anxiety still burrowed under his skin, spinning out worst-case scenarios.

“We need to keep this between us,” Eames blurted, not looking at Arthur because he couldn’t look at the betrayal he was sure was evident on that beautiful face. “I’ve never really hidden anything, sexuality or otherwise, but I can’t afford a scandal right now. If anyone ever found out that I was sleeping with my personal bodyguard, I’d be kicked out of government before I could get my pants on and that really isn’t what I want to be remembered for. I want to be a good PM, I want to be remembered for the changes I made, not who I was sleeping with,” Eames rambled, only stopping to catch his breath.

Just as he was getting ready to continue his explanation, in a desperate attempt to cover the silence that surrounded them, Arthur climbed on top of him. The sudden warmth and physical contact shut Eames up better than anything else could have. His hands automatically went to Arthur’s hips, holding him with as much care as he would his afternoon tea.

“I understand,” Arthur said, punctuating his words with a chaste kiss. “It wouldn’t exactly look good for me, either,” he continued as he kissed his way down Eames’ neck, nipping at his collarbone to which Eames sucked in a breath.

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t we talk about this?” Eames didn’t really want to stop Arthur’s leisurely kisses down his torso but he was fairly certain they needed to finish the conversation, come to some sort of agreement.

“I’m trying to prove a point,” Arthur said, punctuating his words with a nip to Eames’ hip.

“I’m sure your point is wonderfully valid, but I really thi—” Eames’ words died in a moan as his dick was engulfed in warmth. He looked down, finding Arthur staring at him and somehow still managing to look smug. He would have commented, made some smart remark, but Arthur’s tongue was doing the most amazing things and he couldn’t form a single word other than Arthur’s name.

He curled his fingers in Arthur’s hair, holding as gently as he could manage while he resisted every desire to grip and thrust into Arthur’s mouth. It had been so long since anyone had given him a blowjob and after months of foreplay, Eames was moaning, trying to get Arthur to pull off but Arthur hollowed his cheeks.

Eames came with a cry, pressing his head back into the mattress.

He was vaguely aware of Arthur panting against his hip, breath hot and moist as he cried Eames’ name.

In the back of his mind, Eames knew that they needed to continue the conversation. He needed to make sure that Arthur knew it wasn’t because he was ashamed and that he really, really wanted to have a relationship with him. But when Arthur snuggled into him, head resting on his chest, Eames couldn’t bring himself to start it all over again. The bliss that had settled over him was too good to ruin.

“Was I clear enough?” Arthur asked, sounding far too put together after what he’d done.

Eames hummed, unsure if he was saying yes or no.

“Eames,” Arthur said, his tone serious and commanding.

Eames blinked and looked at Arthur, his heart clenching at the sight of the tiny wrinkle between his brows. “Arthur.”

“I don’t need you to go shouting anything from the rooftops. I don’t need the whole world knowing anything. This,” Arthur gestured between the both of them, “is about us. Let’s just see where it goes, okay?”

There was a hint of nerves, a slight twitch of Arthur’s left brow, and Eames found himself nodding.

Arthur understood.

Arthur wanted to be with him.

“Let’s see where it goes.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Amy who helped with the direction this chapter has taken.  
> Unbeta'd and well, you know the drill by now.
> 
> We're so close to the end!

Over the last several months, Eames had gotten into a routine of watching Arthur from a distance, longing and pining but somehow knowing that they would never be together. But with everything that happened in Japan, being home was a new kind of torture.

Eames knew he was allowed to have Arthur, that he could reach out and take if he wanted to. But they’d agreed, they were keeping things between them and that meant that no matter how much Eames wanted to drag Arthur in for a kiss while they were walking Pepper, he couldn’t.

Since they’d been home, they had managed an hour to two throughout the week to spend together but somehow, they were always interrupted. Apparently, Mal had some sort of cockblocking radar and knew the exact moment she needed to walk in to ruin everything.

It was infuriating and exactly why Eames was in the kitchen, beating dough into submission.

“Pretty sure it’s ready to talk now.”

Eames glanced up from the dough, freezing mid-punch to stare at Arthur who was standing, leaning against the door frame, his shirt riding up and revealing the most tantalising strip of skin, sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

He was divine.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Eames asked, trying to deflect the conversation from his obvious frustrations.

“Appears so.” Arthur walked over to Eames, nudging him out of the way with his hip.

Eames tried to fight back, get his spot in front of the bowl back but Arthur just pushed him away, guiding him to sit on the other side of the counter.

“Don’t move,” he said, pointing a finger at Eames as though that was enough to subdue him.

“You don’t scare me,” Eames muttered though his heart wasn’t in it. He was actually happy to see Arthur, pleased that he couldn’t sleep even though it meant Arthur was going to be cranky when they had to head out for their full day of meetings. He was terrible when he didn’t get a full eight hours of sleep.

“I’m not trying to scare you.” Arthur wasn’t looking at Eames as he spoke. Instead, he had shoved Eames’ dough to the side and was pulling ingredients out of the cupboards.

“What are you doing?” Eames asked, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Arthur move gracefully through the kitchen, measuring out the flour with absolute precision.

“I’m baking.”

“Is that so?”

Arthur paused his sifting to frown at Eames, one brow raised in an obvious question.

As much as Eames wanted to tease Arthur about his baking since Eames was the one with the penchant for the midnight activity, but he was rather intrigued by the idea of getting to watch Arthur going through motions. In fact, Eames desperately wanted to know Arthur’s favourite treat so he could perfect a recipe later and surprise him.

“Can I ask what you’re making?”

“You can ask,” Arthur said, leaving Eames waiting for the rest of a sentence that didn’t come.

“You are infuriating,” Eames groaned but relished the chance to study Arthur without anyone else around. There were very few opportunities for him to openly stare at Arthur and he was going to make the most of it while he could. It was an added bonus that Arthur was dressed down, curls falling over his forehead and making him look younger.

“It’s just part of my charm.”

“That it is, Darling,” Eames sighed.

There was no limit to the things Eames liked about Arthur. The more he uncovered, the more Eames was captivated. He was certain that no matter what he found out, Eames would never get to the bottom of the enigma that was Arthur Darling. Though, there was one thing that Eames really wanted to get the bottom of but couldn’t find a way to bring up.

Arthur hadn’t worn lace at all since they finally sorted things out and Eames craved to explore that part of him. He wanted to know every part of Arthur but had no idea of how to broach the subject without sounded lecherous.

“Are you going to tell me why you were beating up that dough?” Arthur asked, gesturing with a wooden spoon at the forgotten bowl and interrupting Eames’ thoughts.

“There aren’t enough hours in the day.” It was the tip of the iceberg, really. The frustrations of the job were starting to take its toll. They had never seemed like a problem before but without the opportunity to go out with the man he was in a relationship with, Eames was wondering if it was worth it. Though, giving up everything he had worked for on a current fling was an equally disastrous idea. Eames felt as though he was being pulled in multiple directions and ultimately like he was going to let someone down. He just hoped it wasn’t Arthur, in the end.

“That doesn’t explain why you were pulverising that dough.”

“Are those raisins?” Eames asked, standing from his stool in horror. “You cannot put raisins in something and expect me to eat it.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and poured out a cupful. “You can’t make oatmeal raisin cookies without the raisins.”

“You are not allowed to defile my kitchen with those atrocities.”

“Your kitchen?”

“Too bloody right it’s my kitchen,” Eames said, nudging Arthur out of the way along with his disgusting raisins. “This is Downing Street and I am prime minister.”

“By all means, Prime Minister,” Arthur said, his voice dropping at the end, reminding Eames of their night together in Japan. “Have at it.”

What Eames wouldn’t do to get Arthur naked and beneath him again. But he had other pressing matters, ones that required immediate attention.

“Off you pop,” Eames said, tapping Arthur on the hip to get him to move out of the way properly instead of taking up precious space that Eames needed to get rid of those tiny dried up grapes. He was already planning on ways to get Mal to ban them from the household entirely.

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“Just sit there and look pretty,” Eames said with a smirk. “You do it so well.”

“You are utterly ridiculous,” Arthur replied, shaking his head but Eames could see his mouth turned up in a smile, dimples peeking out.

“It’s part of why you love me.” The words were out before Eames could catch them. He had tiptoed around the breadth of his feelings, never daring to step too far because he didn’t want to frighten Arthur. But Eames knew his own feelings ran deeper than pure desire. Eames was smitten. He’d just never dared admit it to anyone, except perhaps Pepper.

Eames peeked at Arthur, attempting to keep movement to a minimum so he wouldn’t get caught. But Arthur was already smiling at him, eyes soft, dimples more prominent and endearing.

“Yeah,” Arthur said, “I do.”

—

Afternoon tea at the Ritz was his mother’s absolute favourite thing.

Eames owed Mal a kidney or something equally for managing to get her to agree to tea with him. Apparently, when he’d finally rung her himself, she was much more amenable to meeting up. Though he had it on good authority that his mother was still very upset that he had suggested she should live in Kensington Village. He still thought it would be the best idea to keep her safe, but, he wasn’t having tea with her to upset her again.

“Rupert.”

Eames winced at his first name, already looking for the exit. “Mummy,” he said, standing and kissing his mother on both cheeks. He waited for her to take a seat before he did, years of etiquette training kicking in. “You’re looking well.”

“I see you already ordered,” she replied in lieu of keeping up the niceties.

“Royal English,” Eames said, smiling and hoping she’d soften since he’d remembered her favourite.

“What have you done?”

“Excuse me?”

His mother calmly poured tea for both of them and grabbed a scone, slicing it in half before she looked at Eames. It was rather reminiscent of his childhood and how she would let him stew, thoughts spinning wildly out of control until she finally relented. But, as she spooned clotted cream onto the scone and took a bite, Eames could tell she was waiting for him to start the conversation.

Two could play that game.

Eames grabbed a sandwich, flashed a smile at his mother and barely resisted the urge to shove the whole thing in at once. The look on her face clearly showed that she knew what he was thinking and it pleased him to no end.

“Are you finally getting married?”

Eames nearly choked on the sandwich, swallowing hard and wincing as it went down nearly whole. His mother was hazardous for his health. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Whatever happened to that darling Beatrice?” she asked, eyebrows raised indicating that she knew exactly what had happened.

“Mummy, really,” Eames sighed. “She was a friend, nothing more.”

“You took her to cousin Albert’s wedding.”

“Because she knew how to get the good drugs.”

“Rupert, really.”

Eames grinned, finally feeling as though he was on steady ground.

“If you aren’t getting married, what are we doing here?”

“Can’t I take my mother out for tea without a hidden agenda?”

“No.”

In their time apart, Eames had forgotten just how perceptive his mother was. In all honesty, Eames knew what he wanted to talk to her about but he couldn’t find a way to start. He’d barely admitted it to himself.

“I met someone,” he said quietly, figuring talking about Arthur was the easiest option.

“So you are getting married.”

Eames groaned, tipping his head back as he took a quick, calming breath. “No,” he said, looking at his mother and attempting to give her his best ‘no-nonsense’ look. “I met someone but I can’t be with them properly. It’s complicated.”

“There is nothing more complicated than the problems we create.” His mother reached out and took one of his hands like she used to when he was small. “Do you love this person?”

Eames nodded.

“Is there anything you can do to change the situation?”

Eames nodded again, his stomach dropping as he realised where the conversation was going. “But I can’t give everything up for one person.”

“Who says you have to give everything up?” She frowned at him, brows knitting together. “You’re the PM, darling, I think you’ve sacrificed enough.”

As much as he wanted it to be true, Eames couldn’t allow himself to think like that. Those were the sort of selfish thoughts that had made him waste his youth on people that didn’t deserve him.

“Putting yourself first isn’t weak, Rupert.”

Eames phone chimed, interrupting their conversation. He was mostly glad for the distraction but it was only Mal, letting him know that Mr Charles had shifted their meeting forward an hour which meant he had to leave immediately or else he was going to be late. “Sorry, mummy, duty calls,” he said with a smile, standing and moving around the table to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Why haven't you told him you love him yet?”

“There are a few things I need to do first,” he said, finding the words true as he said them. He’d thought it was because he was afraid but really, it was because he felt he couldn’t give all of himself to Arthur and he didn’t want to say those words until he could.

Eames smiled softly. Tea with his mother always was a revelation. “You really should just give in and agree to live in Kensington Village,” Eames teased once he was out of hitting distance.

“Oh sod off,” his mother said with a laugh, waving him off much happier than the last time they parted.

Eames pulled his phone out, sliding into the backseat of the town car and ringing Mal. “Ma petite puce, I need you to write a press release.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter!  
> I'm not entirely sure when this will be finished but definitely before the end of the year!
> 
> This is unedited, not beta'd or anything, so forgive me for any errors. I did my best.

Mal had finalised the press release but Eames hadn’t looked at it. It was sitting on his desk, waiting for him to sign off on it.

Since Mal had gotten over her shock—and subsequently Eames as well—she’d be working non-stop to get things in order. Eames, on the other hand, had spent his hours dreaming of what his life would be like. Whether he might like to continue living in the city or more to the country. Having more space for Pepper to run around was rather tempting and, the more Eames thought about it, the more the prospect of getting away from London entirely was starting to seem appealing.

He wanted to talk to Arthur, discuss everything with him before he went any further but Arthur had been out of the country for the past fortnight and it wasn’t a conversation Eames was willing to have over the phone.

Eames understood, of course. Arthur’s father had been in the hospital and he’d had to go home. He’d been waiting desperately for Arthur to return so they could talk about everything. It was partly why Eames was on the treadmill, his lungs aching because he’d been running for too long. If he distracted himself from his thoughts, he figured he’d forget that Arthur was due back in the morning but wasn’t back yet. Plus it meant that he was less likely to pace in the foyer and annoy the crap out of everyone in the building.

Mal had sent him away so he’d stop annoying her but even now, the treadmill had worn Eames out—perhaps he’d pushed himself a little harder than necessary—and the only thing he wanted to do was take a shower and crawl into bed. At least if he was asleep he wouldn’t be wondering why Arthur wasn’t home.

“Come on girl,” he said, whistling for Pepper and only turned to leave once the puppy was at his heels. “How long have you been there?” he asked, startled by Arthur sitting in a chair next to the door. He hadn’t heard anyone enter and he’s partly sad that Arthur hadn’t gotten his attention. All the time they could have had together, lost because Arthur apparently liked to watch.

“Long enough,” Arthur said, standing with a cheeky grin. “How long have you been in here?”

“Long enough,” Eames teased back and walked out of the gym, Pepper and Arthur both trailing after.

When they were in Eames’ bedroom—and away from prying eyes—the only thing Eames wanted to do was push Arthur up against the nearest wall. He was tempting, standing there in dark jeans and a grey argyle sweater, hair soft and curling. But somehow Eames kept control of himself, mostly because he felt they had several things to talk about before they fell into bed. Though he knew if Arthur initiated, he wasn’t going to refuse.

Eames was a weak man, after all.

“I’m going to shower,” he said in lieu of starting a conversation. It might have been a coward’s way out, but it was certainly much easier, especially since he could smell himself and he really didn’t want to put Arthur off for any reason.

The shower was perfect, distractingly warm and Eames could feel himself relaxing as the water beat against his shoulders.

Arthur was still nearby. With the shower off, Eames could hear him playing with Pepper through the bathroom door. It was unbearably adorable considering how standoffish he’d been when they’d first met the puppy.

“You haven’t been walking her,” Arthur said when Eames finally emerged from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips.

It was still novel to find Arthur eyeing him up, eyes lingering on the flimsy knot holding the towel up.

“We were busy today.”

“Eames, she’ll destroy this place if you don’t walk her.”

“I know,” Eames sighed, dragging a hand through his hair and making it stick up in all directions.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, suddenly behind Eames and turning him around.

“Why don’t you wear lace anymore?” It wasn’t what he wanted to talk about but it had been eating away at him since that day in the bathroom. He wanted to know if it was because of him. They’d been together for months and Arthur hadn’t worn anything special around him. Eames wasn’t entirely sure why he was upset about it, but he was and now that the question was out there, he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Arthur stiffened and stepped back, the soft, worried look gone leaving only a blank canvas.

That wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for but he’s started the conversation at least. That had to count for something.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Arthur said, his voice strangely monotone.

Eames didn’t want to push Arthur away, didn’t want to force him to discuss something if he wasn’t ready to. But Eames  _ had _ to clear the air for himself. If he let it go entirely, the thoughts would still plague him and he knew that wasn’t healthy for any kind of relationship.

“Alright,” Eames said softly and settled a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into the back of his neck. “I just want you to know that I thought about you, a lot. Wearing lace, that is. I mean, clearly I thought about you a lot but you in that peach thing in particular. I searched on the internet until I found something that looked like what I remembered.”

Arthur turned around and Eames lifted his hand to cup Arthur’s cheek, determined to get through this admission.

“I must’ve wanked myself dry thinking about it and you. And don’t get me wrong, I am entirely fond of you without the lace but don’t force part of yourself into a box on my account. In fact, I’d very much like you to be able to share every bit with me. So when I asked why you don’t wear lace anymore, it’s not because I’m trying to pry, pet. I just… I wanted to be clear and let you know that I don’t mind in the slightest. Yeah?”

Arthur nodded, eyes wide.

Eames wasn’t sure if what he’d said had helped in any way, shape, or form but he’d gotten it out. One thing was out in the open between them. Now he just had to get the balls to bring up the other matter.

“Come on, let’s feed this little rascal before she starts trying to eat us,” Eames said, trying to lighten the mood and allow Arthur the space to deal with whatever was going on inside his head.

He hoped he hadn’t ruined anything.

—

There weren’t many hours Eames got to sit and enjoy the peace and quiet. Pepper was snuggled into his lap, dozing as he scratched his fingers through her fur. He made a mental note to take her to a groomer to get a trim. There had to be some sort of doggy spa he could take her to. Maybe there was even one where the owners could get a bit of pampering at the same time.

Eames smiled at the thought, already imagining the day when a tentative knock interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” he called, looking up from his book.

Arthur smiled tentatively at him, fingers tugging at the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing.

Eames had yet to figure out everyone’s fascination with those NASA shirts, but he was rather admiring the fit over Arthur’s shoulders.

“Is everything alright?” Eames asked when it was apparent that Arthur wasn’t planning on moving any further into the room. He was tempted to go to him but, from the look on Arthur’s face, Eames knew it wouldn’t be welcome.

Silence stretched around Eames, twisting and turning as though it was mocking him. He wanted to fill the gap with inane chatter, talk about the weather perhaps. But he couldn’t form the words. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, too clumsy to create a coherent sentence.

Thankfully, Arthur found his voice before Eames embarrassed himself.

“This isn’t a fetish,” he said, eyes downcast but his voice sure. “I enjoy wearing these sorts of things. They make me feel good, secure… Safe.” Arthur took a step forward, eyes darting to Eames who had set the book aside at the end of the first sentence.

He was riveted, fascinated by the explanation he was getting.

“I need to be sure… Did you mean what you said before?” There was a note of hesitation, the slightest waver at the end of the question, and Eames was off the bed, standing in front of Arthur but not daring to reach out just yet.

Somehow it didn’t seem right to touch.

“Every word,” Eames breathed, fingers itching to drag Arthur to bed. At the very least, Eames wanted to comfort Arthur, whisper words of adoration until the little crease between his brows eased.

Arthur slipped his shirt off, tossing it to the side. Eames wasn’t sure where it went because he was far too focused on Arthur slowly revealing himself. Tension radiated from Arthur, almost palpable, and Eames wished he could soothe whatever turmoil was coiling inside of Arthur. All he could do, though, was watch as Arthur tugged on the tie holding his pyjama bottoms up, biting into his lower lip for a brief second before letting go.

Eames’ mouth went dry.

The sight before him was more than he had ever anticipated. Arthur stood in nothing more than a pair of small black lacy boxer briefs. They hugged his hips, the scalloped edge fitting snugly to his thighs.

It took every ounce of restraint Eames had not to reach out and touch, run his fingers along the edge, to feel the contrast of rough lace and smooth skin. He waited for permission, his chest aching with the weight of this part of Arthur he was being allowed to witness. He had nothing to share in return except—

“Arthur,” Eames croaked, clearing his throat before continuing. As much as he wanted to devour Arthur, throw him onto the pillowy duvet and have his way with him, Eames had to level the playing field. Arthur had confided in him. It was only fair that he returned in kind. “I need to tell you something.”

“Why do you do this at the worst times?” Arthur groaned, crouching to pick up his pyjamas.

“No,” Eames said, reaching out a hand but stopping himself an inch short of actually touching Arthur. “Please. It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Arthur sighed, pulling his trousers up.

Eames watched as the soft fabric settled low on Arthur’s hips, a hint of the dark lace peeking over the top. It was as though a piece of Arthur had been shut away and Eames didn’t like it. Of course he had gone and made things worse instead of better.

Words fluttered just out of Eames’ grasp, awkwardly stumbling over the sentences he’d come up with hours prior. But, in the end, Eames wasn’t known for his eloquence. The best way to tell someone something was to just get it out. Or, at least, that’s what his mother had always said.

“I’m going to resign.”

Outside of his one meeting with Mal, Eames hadn’t actually said the words aloud. In fact, he couldn’t actually recall saying the words outright when he’d spoken to Mal either. It was satisfying that Arthur was the first person to hear the words. It was right, as it was meant to be.

“You’re going to resign,” Arthur repeated, the words slow and stilted as though Eames had been speaking another language.

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to be prime minister anymore?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He’d expected the question but it still caught him off-guard. Coming to the decision had been difficult enough, Eames had no idea how he could possibly explain it to someone else, especially since that very someone else had a rather important part to play in it all.

“I thought about it,” Eames said cautiously, hoping he could keep emotion out of his answer, “and I decided that I’ve done all I wanted to as prime minister. It’s a good time to step down and have people remember me for the right reasons.” It was sound enough but the look Arthur was giving him made Eames wonder if he wasn’t nearly as opaque as he would like.

“What are you going to do instead?”

Eames smiled softly. This was a question he could answer for hours. He had a great many plans and most of them involved Arthur in various states of undress. “I was thinking of moving to the country. Getting a place big enough for Pepper to run around.”

The puppy yapped at her name, earning a chuckle from both Arthur and Eames.

“And what about me?” Arthur asked quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

That was the crux of it. Everything depended on Arthur’s answer.

“I was rather hoping you’d come with me,” Eames said, stepping forward and gently lifting Arthur’s chin until they were face to face. “We could grow old together in the countryside. Have a family. Not have a family. Whatever you want, Darling. I just want to do it with you.”

“You want to…”

“Without a doubt. I want everything with you.”

“But your career—”

“I always wanted an excuse to do nothing but paint.”

“Eames, you can’t just give it all up.”

“Why not? Mal has my speech written, got my replacement all ready to go. I just need you to say yes.” Eames ran his thumb along Arthur’s jaw. 

Arthur closed his eyes, leaning into Eames’ touch, but he didn’t answer.

It wasn’t a good sign, Eames assumed. If Arthur had been going to agree, going to go along with Eames’ plan, he would have said yes already. But Arthur was standing there, eyes closed, face tilted ever so slightly into Eames’ now open palm. Eames fought the urge to force an answer out of Arthur. It was hard, though, waiting for something he wasn’t certain was going to come. In every scenario Eames had come up with, Arthur had always responded. This deafening silence was too much.

“Arthur,” Eames whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder it would ruin everything.

“Why do you want to step down?” Arthur asked, soft and hesitant.

Eames stepped back, dropping his hand and turning to the bed. He’d rehearsed the words several times while Arthur had been away, come up with a million contingencies but nothing seemed right anymore. Honesty was the best policy, after all.

“I’m tired of being PM,” he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and dropping his gaze to his knees. “Running a country is exhausting and fighting the opposition… I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Arthur sat next to him, knees bumping his in what Eames took to be a silent gesture to continue.

“And I thought, right? Now’s the perfect time. The country is going smoothly. The public seems to like me still. Go out on a high.”

“But why now? You haven’t mentioned this before. What changed?”

“Well,” Eames hesitated, peeking at Arthur without actually looking at him fully. It was make or break time. “You did.”

“Eames, no.” Arthur stood, seeming to put as much distance between them as he could without actually escaping the room.

Eames tried to ignore the twinge of hurt that coursed through him, but it was near impossible. Arthur was pacing, fingers curling and uncurling in a way that had Eames worried. Had he really upset Arthur that much?

“You can’t give everything up because of me. I won’t let you.”

“I’m not really asking permission, Darling,” Eames said, trying to keep his voice level and not rise to the strain in Arthur’s voice.

“You’d resent me, Eames. Maybe not right now, but in five years, maybe less, you’d resent me for taking you away from your career. You can’t throw away everything you’ve worked for. I won’t let you,” Arthur repeated, stopping his pacing in front of Eames, eyes burning with a passion Eames hadn’t seen before.

It was an argument he’d had with himself. In the beginning, he had thought he was giving everything up for a future with Arthur but, as time passed, Eames knew it was much more than that. He wasn’t sure he could convince Arthur of that, though.

Eames stood from the bed, slowly stepping forward until he was a foot away from Arthur. He wanted to leave air between them, have space incase Arthur needed a quick escape. At the end of the day, Eames wasn’t willing to cage Arthur in if he felt that strongly about not letting Eames resign.

“While you may have changed a lot of things for me, Arthur, you are not my sole reason for wanting to step down.” He spoke slowly, carefully, making sure Arthur was looking and catching every word. It was important they understood each other. “I’m not saying you haven’t factored into my decision, because you have. But the time has come for me to do something else with my life. I’m not entirely sure what it’ll be just yet, but I do know that I want to figure it out with you.” Eames took Arthur’s hand in his, gently twining their fingers together. “Say yes, Darling,” he said softly, hoping it came across as the question he wanted it to be.

Arthur squeezed his hand and closed the gap between them. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

Eames broke into a grin and wrapped his arms around Arthur, spinning him in a circle.

“Put me down, you idiot,” Arthur groused but it was halfhearted at best.

When Eames set him back on the ground, Arthur leaned back, slipping his arms around Eames’ shoulders. With that conversation out of the way, Eames had other plans for Arthur. They mainly involved those lacy pants he was wearing and how Eames could get him to make a mess of them. He wondered how a promise of a new pair would go down. That would come later, though. Eames was much better at asking for forgiveness rather than permission.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” Eames started, gently ushering Arthur back until they reached the bed. “That I didn’t appreciate what you came to show me and that I should make up for that.” He released Arthur and stepped back so he had room to kneel. 

“What do you mean?”

Eames didn’t respond, just reached out and tugged on the tie holding Arthur’s trousers up. It was a shame to hide those beautiful pants and Eames was excited at the opportunity to explore. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do first.

He settled for running his hands up Arthur’s legs, palms ghosting over the lace. It was rough and distracting, but Eames ignored Arthur’s half-hard dick in favour of running his hands up the firm stomach, standing and stepping closer.

“Eames,” Arthur said, already sounding wrecked even though they had barely started.

That voice was his downfall.

Eames lowered Arthur to the bed, kissing him softly, with much more care than he thought he had. “I love you,” he murmured against Arthur’s lips.

Arthur pulled him in for a deeper kiss, tongue seeking entrance. But Eames wanted to take it slow, wanted to savour the entire evening. He wasn’t in any kind of hurry.

“I love you,” Eames repeated and kissed Arthur until he was breathless.


	17. Four Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet to finish off this fic!  
> I hope you have all enjoyed the ride and are satisfied with this ending. I mean, it's kinda too late now because it's up but hey, you could always request extra scenes!
> 
> Unbeta'd (par for the course) so forgive me for any mistakes.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that looked over this and encouraged me in any way, shape, or form. I appreciate it so much, you have no idea.  
> Special thank you to the people that started this whole thing in the first place. Look at what we've achieved!

“Stop, Papa.”

Pearls of laughter floated to Eames, squeals quickly following as Arthur tickled the toddler, her golden curls soaking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Pepper bounced, licking the little girl, happily yapping when she was licked in return.

“Darling,” Eames called, hoping Arthur would have enough sense to not let the four-year-old continue munching on Pepper as though it was something that should be done every day. They hadn’t bathed Pepper in a few days. He could only imagine what the rascal had gotten into.

“Don’t worry so much, Dad,” Arthur called, poking his tongue at Eames.

“Eliza Darling,” Eames called, the little girl turning her head and smiling brightly at him. “Have you tried munching on your papa?”

“Eames, no,” Arthur groaned just before he was assaulted by both Pepper and Eliza.

These were Eames’ favourite moments. The quiet domesticity that had become their life was something Eames had never thought he would actually have. He had dreamed of having a family one day, having people that cared for him and depended on him. But he never thought it would actually happen. He had always thought he’d die alone, longing after a life he had lived but somehow never participated in.

This was far better than anything he had ever dreamed of.

Since Eames had stepped down as prime minister, things had slowed to a near crawl and he was fascinated to find that he rather enjoyed it that way. He had spent months painting, reading books he had never had time for, even baking so much they had to invite the neighbours over. Arthur had taken to living in the country like a fish to water. It was though Arthur had been designed to live in the fresh air, the lazy afternoons dozing under a canopy of trees. If anything, Arthur was even more gorgeous in York than he had been in London.

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” his mother teased, taking a seat next to Eames where he had camped out in their backyard.

“I’m not sure I see the insult there.”

“Wasn’t meant to be one, Rupert.”

Six months after they had moved to the country, Eames had brought his mother down to live with them. He knew he was never going to convince her that moving into a home was the right choice to make and so he had offered her a space with them. He may have sweetened the deal with the fact that he and Arthur were planning on getting married—just a small thing, he had promised her—and were wanting to start a family. Of course, it was all a ploy so Eames could keep an eye on her in case anything were to happen. He knew she saw right through him, but she had agreed all the same and they had all been living together ever since.

It had been nerve-wracking introducing Arthur to his mother but they had gotten along like a house on fire. Eames should have figured. They both had a tendency to tease Eames, especially since Arthur had finally settled into the relationship. Them both ganging up on him was their favourite pastime and it usually involved teasing him for the fact that he had gotten a little rounder in the middle. Eliza seemed to love his squishy bits, though, so Eames tried not to mind when the jokes cut a little deep.

“Daddy,” Eliza called, the only warning Eames got before she was throwing herself into his lap.

He wrapped his arms around her, stopping her from falling to the ground and being trodden on by Pepper, who had followed her and was attempting to get into Eames’ lap as well. She had long since grown out of being able to fit onto Eames’ lap and he sorely missed just how small she had been when he’d first gotten her.

“I thought you were playing with Papa,” Eames said, pressing a kiss to her curls.

“I was,” she said matter of factly, the ‘ _ and now I’m not _ ’ heavily implied in her following silence.

“Did you wear him out, petal?” Eliza nodded gleefully, her curls bouncing. “You’d better make sure he’s alright, then.” Eames set Eliza on the ground, her tiny toes curling into the soft grass for a brief second before bounding off—Pepper in tow—back to Arthur.

“Really?” Arthur asked, shooting Eames a glance that clearly said he had been betrayed.

Eames shrugged and blew Arthur a kiss, knowing it wouldn’t make up for not taking Eliza off his hands for even a few minutes. But, he knew Arthur would forgive him later that evening when his plans were finally set in motion.

“Have you packed her things?” his mother asked, breaking Eames’ trance of watching Arthur, Eliza, and Pepper roll around on the ground together.

Eames hummed a ‘yes’, unwilling to remove his eyes from his husband, especially since Eames spied a hint of red that he was certain had been his birthday present for Arthur a few weeks ago.

“Eliza,” she called to which the four-year-old turned, grinning as bright as the sun before forgetting all about Arthur and half-skipped half-hopped her way over, Pepper still hot on her heels.

“Nan!”

“Hello, my little cherub. You’re coming to stay in my cottage tonight.”

“Really?” she asked in wonder, her eyes widening as she glanced at Eames as though to check whether or not she was being teased.

It had been one of their rules: Eliza wasn’t allowed to stay in the cottage unless there were circumstances they couldn’t avoid. So far, in the three years they’d had Eliza, there had only been one time they’d needed her to sleep at the cottage and that was a memory Eames didn’t want to recall.

“Yeah, really?” Arthur asked, suddenly standing next to Eames, his own confusion an almost perfect replica of Eliza’s. If it wasn’t for her near-white hair, Eames would have sworn she was Arthur’s biological child.

“Yes, really,” Eames said, responding to both Arthur and Eliza but ignoring Arthur’s frown just to talk to his daughter for a moment. “You’re going to spend tonight with Nan and then in the morning, we’re going to eat crepes. All of us, together. How does that sound?”

“Eames—”

Eliza squealed in delight, cutting off Arthur’s half-hearted argument and nodding so much Eames was almost worried her head would bounce right off her shoulders. “Can we go now?” she asked, grabbing her Nan’s hand and tugging gently but still enough to show that she really meant it.

A part of Eames was hurt that she was so ready to leave them behind, but rationally, he knew it was bound to happen at some point. Eames had just assumed it would happen much later than her four years of age.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Arthur asked, watching Eliza lead her Nan off towards the cottage, waving back at them as an afterthought and calling Pepper to follow.

Eames tore his gaze from his daughter and looked at Arthur, really looked at him. It felt like it had been an age since he’d last taken the opportunity to just stare at him, but seeing the soft, hurt expression on his beautiful face tore at Eames’ heart. When he had planned the evening, he had never thought that Arthur would react this like. Eames had thought Arthur would relish the chance to not look after someone, to actually have someone looking after him for a change. “I could get mum to bring her back,” he said quietly, standing and slipping a hand into Arthur’s.

“No, no… It’s okay,” Arthur murmured, squeezing Eames’ hand. “I just…”

“I know, love.” Eames pulled Arthur into a hug, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Maybe this wasn’t the best plan he’d ever come up with.

“What are we meant to do now?” Arthur asked, sounding far more lost than Eames had heard him in years. To be fair, if Eames had been thrown in the deep end like this, he probably would have been reacting the exact same way. Eliza had been a part of their lives for so long that he could barely remember what it had been like without her.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you out for a romantic dinner but how would you like to stay in? Watch a movie? Maybe do a little bit of cuddling without extras?”

“Only if we can watch The Man From Uncle,” Arthur said, a cheeky grin on his face.

Eames shook his head, pressing a gentle kiss to Arthur’s lips. “Sounds perfect, Darling.”


End file.
